


Though The Stars Walk Backward

by Phantoms_and_Foxgloves



Series: Love, All Alike [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullied Castiel, Castiel Can Take Care Of Himself, Chick-Flick Moments, First Dates, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff of the worst kind, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Raphael Being a Dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:04:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 70,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantoms_and_Foxgloves/pseuds/Phantoms_and_Foxgloves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'Is that why you think I'm here, Sam?' Cas murmured with that familiar steady stare. His mouth twitched toward a smile but there was nothing happy in the expression. 'It's not because Dean asked me to be here. It's not because you cannot face this alone. I have seen your determination Sam and I don't doubt that you will face this. I'm only here because I will be proud to stand beside you as you do.'"<br/><br/>Part II of the LAA-verse.<br/>When Castiel marched out of his father's house all those months ago he never would have imagined finding the life he has now. Friends, a job at a garage, a boyfriend and a real, loving family, it's all his. Sure, it's not perfect. He still has to deal with Raphael (a "certified fuck-weasel" by Gabriel's colorful description), and he hasn't spoken to his ailing father since that night, but life now is better than he could have ever hoped.<br/><br/>But as old faces and new struggles start dropping in will Castiel find a way to hold on to this fragile new happiness?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude: Getting Back

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, folks! Welcome back to the LAA-verse. In case you’re new here, this work is a sequel to my previous fic, “Love, All Alike”. This continues the High-School AU established in LAA, and picks up pretty much where that one left off. 
> 
> Where Love, All Alike took its name from the John Donne poem “The Sunne Rising”, the sequel takes its title from the E.E. Cummings work “Dive for Dreams”. I have no idea how long this will go or how frequently I will be able to update, but I promise to try my best to post at least twice a month. I’m currently working on another fic here, “Along the Bending Path, Away”, which is pretty dense so I hope folks will forgive me if I’m a bit more sporadic than usual in getting new material up.
> 
> As usual feedback in the form of kudos and comments is always appreciated! Liked one bit particularly? I’d love to hear which. Didn’t believe something a character did? Please tell me why! I love hearing from you guys and it always pushes me to write more. This is un-beta’d so all mistakes (and there are plenty) are my own.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Trust your heart  
> if the seas catch fire  
> (And live by love  
> Though the stars walk backward)  
> \- E.E. Cummings

Sam stood almost perfectly still, the only movement the flexing of his fingers on the edge of his helmet. His cross dangled from his other hand, resting against his knee as he stared out across the field.

State Championships. They’d made it. He’d made it.

He’d made it back.

Beside him Brady was practically vibrating, bouncing on the balls of his feet as a reedy grade-schooler began warbling out the last of the star-spangled banner from center field. The rest of the team stood in a rigid line, gripping their crosses and cradling their helmets beneath their left arms. The blood-red jerseys sparkled in the sunlight, standing out in stark contrast to the black shorts and under armour, the frost-grey field. From the corner of his eye Sam looked them over, proud of each and every one of them.

There was Garland, standing straight, ready to start after a year rebuilding a tweaked knee. Beyond him stood Cole, short and fast as hell. This would be his last game. He was graduating in the spring with Brady after four years on the varsity team. A few places down stood Mark, the wiry little freshmen who had been so stunned to make varsity that he was too terrified to speak to any of the upperclassmen for nearly a month. He’d gotten over that as soon as it became clear he was in the run for high-scorer this season. He had earned his spot on the team so many times over. Keith, Jayden, Dylan, every one of these guys had worked their asses off all year and pushed Sam to be better. 

Brady bumped his arm, drawing his attention and offering a tight smile. Sam returned it, hoping Brady could feel the gratitude bleeding off him. They hadn’t talked about it, not even in August. But he knew Brady knew what this game meant. Sam hadn’t been sure in the fall if they would take him back. After the shit he pulled last year he wouldn’t have blamed any of them if they had wanted him off the team for good. Especially Brady. Sam wouldn’t have blamed him if Brady never wanted to talk to him again. But he hadn’t done that. Brady had been the first to encourage him to come back.

And Sam _had_ come back. He was strong, stronger than he’d been in months. He could feel the difference in his muscles, the sure, steady weight of endurance that had replaced the shallow stripe of bottled lightning he’d gotten used to. He was warmed up, his blood pumping and his muscles loose. His head was clear. Not that hollow, buzzing clarity of the last year but the grounded, measured precision he’d worked so hard to get back.

These guys were a huge part of that. The other part was sitting up in the stands, waving in a ridiculous display of enthusiasm whenever Sam happened to look his way.

Dean.

Sam had hurt Brady and the rest of the team but he’d nearly destroyed Dean. It didn’t matter why. It didn’t matter that he’d been trying to make a better life for the both of them. It didn’t matter even the tiniest bit. All his stupid rationalizations, the excuses he made every step of the way to prove to himself that he wasn’t fucking everything up, they meant exactly squat. Because in the end he’d pushed his brother so far away he wasn’t sure if he could ever find his way back to him.

But he’d gotten back.

Mostly because Dean refused to be pushed away. The harder Sam pushed the tighter Dean held on. Sometimes it had felt like Dean was crushing him to death just being in the same room. Sam grimaced as he remembered how he’d fought like hell to throw Dean off, to convince him that he didn’t _need_ a big brother looking over his shoulder every ten seconds just to point out everything he was doing wrong. And just when Sam thought he’d finally severed the last thread of affection between them by being selfish, idiotic, and just plain _wrong,_ that tree had come flying out of the darkness and brought his downward trajectory to a shrieking, jagged halt.

That should have been the end of it. The end of him. But somehow it wasn’t. Somehow, he’d woken up. And Dean had been right there, like it wasn’t even a question. Sam had fallen as far as he could have possibly managed to fall - even clawed his way down into the dirt a few more feet - and Dean had been right there to grab him and yank him back upright again. Like always.

Sam smiled gently as he picked his brother out of the crowd, the garish red and gold paint job doing nothing to disguise him. How Gabe had convinced Dean to let him paint his face Sam would never know. The older Novak was seated in front of Dean with similarly ridiculous war paint, his arm around a pretty blond and pom-poms in his hands. Alfie and Jo were up there too, their Lawrence High sweatshirts getting rare outings as they cheered for him. Ellen was squashed in next to Bobby, waving a giant sign depicting a lion with a brown mane suspiciously similar in style to Sam’s hair. He was willing to bet Alfie had drawn that. Even Castiel was sporting red paint stripes on his cheeks.

Castiel. 

Six months ago if anyone had asked Sam if he ever thought he’d be here, standing on the field of the state game, his own private cheering section packed with friends and family and his teammates backing him up, he’d have laughed in their faces. That part of his life was supposed to be over. He’d thrown it all away on Ruby’s stupid promises and his own bitter anger. But somehow he’d done it. He’d scrabbled and fought and slogged his way back, and in the process somehow even managed to gain something new. Castiel. A friend. A better friend than Sam would have said he deserved. Jo, Alfie, Brady and the rest had let Sam back in, remembered who he could be and let him fight to be that again. But Castiel was something new. Cas didn’t need Sam to be what he had been. He wasn’t measuring him up with some idealized memory. With Cas Sam could just be who he was. There was no shadow of a past self to fit into, no shoes to fill. Cas could look at him with brand new eyes and let him know he was still worth something.

Looking out at familiar faces, old and new, Sam felt a soft punch to the chest.

 _Well,_ he thought, _time to go and prove them all right._


	2. Second-hand Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longish delay. I had intended to post this the same day as the prelude but unfortunately these guys would just not work with me. But here it is, the first official chapter. As always, it’s unbeta’d so any mistakes (and I’m sure there are plenty) are my own.  
> I’m a little surprised that the end of this chapter went where it did so quickly but… whatever. The slow burn is still in effect, but since we’ve already got 120k+ words of it under our belts I guess it’s not a problem to hit the ground running in this one.  
> I did go back and edit the prelude a bit, as it was a tad rough, but no major changes.  
> Feedback is life! Enjoy!

Leaning his head back against the familiar warm tweed of his favorite armchair, Castiel listened to Dean prattle on with a soft smile on his lips. A thread of steam drifted up from his mug, melting the skittering patterns of frost that had crept up the window of Reynard’s. As he sipped his hot chocolate he tried to decide which part of the afternoon had been his favorite; watching Sam lead his team to victory or watching Dean watch Sam. On the one hand Sam Winchester in top form was, to say the least, an impressive sight. He was a strange mixture of explosive force and lithe grace, blasting his way through the opposing team’s ranks one minute and slipping subtly around a single defender the next. The dichotomy baffled the other team and by half-time Lawrence had gained an easy lead.

What Cas had found most impressive about Sam’s performance was the fact that he never scored a single goal. He would steal the ball with a swift tackle, carry it up the wing with staggering speed, and just at the last moment flick it into the waiting cross of a teammate, letting them send it shrieking into the back of the net. He was always aware of where each of his teammates were moving, as much focused on their weaknesses as his own strengths. Each time another player fumbled Sam was there to back him. By the time the final whistle sounded Sam had assisted 11 of the 12 goals and Castiel could practically feel the satisfaction rolling off him all the way up in the bleachers.

On the other hand, as impressive as Sam’s performance had been, Dean had put on one of his own. Normally Dean took some pains with how he presented himself to the world. In the few short months Castiel had known him he had come to recognize that generally, Dean liked to appear cool. An easy joke, a cocky smile, the slightly hunched shoulders sitting over deliberately relaxed hips - it all added up to a mantle of casual masculinity and seemingly effortless calm that he could shrug on like a second skin. Sometimes he let it slide away, just for a moment or two around his family, but it was always close to hand. The more uncomfortable he became the more jokes he threw out. The more he cared, the less show he made of caring. It was an infuriating and endearing facet of Dean’s personality that Castiel was coming to know well.

A facet that was smashed to bits in the face of Sam’s big game. 

Face-paint glinting in the chilly sun, Dean had hollered and whooped and generally made an absolute fool of himself from the second the warm-up music began. He’d flung popcorn and booed at poor calls. He’d stamped his feet and shouted along with every Lawrence cheer. Even Gabriel hadn’t been able to match Dean’s ecstatic enthusiasm. He was ridiculous and gleeful and every now and then when Dean would turn to Cas, his green eyes flashing with elation and pride, Cas would feel the breath leave him in a quick punch.

Sam Winchester on top form was impressive, but Dean Winchester happy was loveliness itself.

Cas shook his head, clearing it of what Dean would surely label ‘sappy girl crap’ and looked to the chair beside him. The shine of second-hand victory still glowed all over Dean as he babbled about some of Sam’s best plays, his arms gesticulating wildly and his own mug forgotten on the table in front of him. The slice of pie Gabriel had offered in celebration hadn’t been so lucky.

Cas had been sitting right next to him the whole game, of course, but Dean still seemed unable to stop himself from going back over every single play in excruciating detail, picking out exactly what made his brother so much better than the other team. Castiel didn’t mind. He quite enjoyed watching Dean talk, even with the remnants of gold and black face-paint clinging at the corners of his nose and eyes. He enjoyed watching Dean do most things; smiling at customers as they sat down at the bar, his teeth flashing white against his lips. Sprawled on the futon fighting sleep as he listened to Sam talk about school after a long double shift. Working in the garage, his t-shirt slipping up to show a sliver of tanned skin at his waist. The way he moved his hands when he spoke, mesmerizing…

“Cas?” Cas blinked, flushing guiltily as he realized he was just staring at Dean’s hands. He hadn’t heard a word Dean was saying for far too long.

“I’m sorry.” He smiled.

Dean grinned back at him, clearly guessing his thoughts easily enough. “Eyes are up here, man.” He chuckled.

“I’m well aware of that.” Cas said, taking another sip of his drink and letting his eyes wander around the room.

“Gross, guys.” Sam smiled. He sat to Cas’s other side, his newly-washed hair curling around his ears as he watched Dean with a fond smile. Castiel could see his exhaustion in the way he draped himself across the chair, his hands spilling lazily over the arms. But despite his tired body his hazel eyes shone as he basked in the affection and pride of his extended family. Cas was glad to see it.

Reynard’s was nearly empty, Gabriel having taken the almost unheard-of step of closing up shop for the day. At another small table nearby sat Ellen Harvelle, her thick blond hair sparkling. She had left the Roadhouse in Pamela’s hands so she could be here for Sam’s victory lunch. Bobby Singer had similarly left Benny in charge of the garage and sat beside Ellen devoid of his usual cap and jumpsuit. Instead he wore a pair of brown canvas pants and mostly wrinkle-free denim shirt. What was left of his hair was combed back neatly and for once his hands were free of grease-smudges.

“Gabe, you got any more victory cookies?” Dean called, waving the empty plate at Cas’s brother. He’d already had seven, delicately picking off the hand-piped lion frosting before stuffing the cookies whole into his mouth. The amount of crumbs down his front probably equalled the amount of cookie that had actually made it down his throat.

“Get ‘em yourself.” Gabe called back from behind the counter where he was frothing up a cappuccino for Alfie. The slender, bug-eyed boy was standing very close to Jo as she sipped her own hot chocolate.

Dean grumbled but it struggled to his feet, groaning as he stretched to his full height. His spine popped a few times and Castiel took a moment to appreciate the smooth arch of his body from hips to shoulders. Dean caught him looking as he pulled himself straight again.

“Right back.” he winked, heading toward the kitchen.

“Surprised he isn’t demanding more victory pie.” Sam pushed his fingers through his hair.

“He’s very proud of you.” Castiel told him, smiling after Dean.

Sam chuckled and ducked his head. “Now if we could just get him to shut up about it.” He muttered.

Castiel snorted. “You Winchesters need to learn to accept praise. You’ve worked so hard for this and now that it’s here you deserve to enjoy it.”

Sam’s eyebrows pinched into a frown as he sighed. “I know. It drives me nuts when Dean does that, talks himself down. It’s just that not a lot good has happened to us in the last few years. I’m not really used to looking on the bright side.”

Castiel nodded. “It can be hard to change your outlook.” He said. “But sometimes good things do happen. This is one of them.”

Sam smiled. “I know it is. And I’m glad Dean’s soaking it up. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s dumb but I’m kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Cas shrugged. “Even if it does we can face it. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Just enjoy this now and worry about shoes later.”

Sam laughed. “It’s an expression, Cas.”

Castiel smiled back, wondering how on earth he had been lucky enough to find his way here. When he’d left his father he had marched out into the rain without the faintest idea where he was actually going. He’d been walking _away,_ not towards anything. And yet by some divine chance he had managed to find Gabriel again, and with his support to find better friends than he had ever known. Of course Gabriel’s apartment and the bakery below were nowhere near as luxurious as the old house, Lawrence was nowhere near as respected as the private institutions he had grown up attending. But he loved it here. He loved himself here. He had left his father’s house behind and found a home. 

Sam shrugged. “Hey, listen, while Dean’s not here, can I ask you a favor?”

“You can always ask me for a favor.” Cas replied, confused. What could Sam want from him that would require Dean’s absence to ask?

Sam twitched a grateful smile at him and leaned his elbows on his knees. “There’s a party tonight with the team, to blow off steam after working all season, you know?”

Castiel nodded. “That makes sense. Are you going to go?”

Sam sighed. “Well that’s the thing.” He said. “It’s not _just_ going to be the team there. In fact, it’s gonna be like half the school, pretty much.” Castiel suppressed a shudder at the thought. He hated crowds. He’d been able to bear this afternoon in the bleachers because he was surrounded by friends, insulated from the chaos of it. At a party he would have no such protection. Sam pushed on. “And that means some… well some people are going to be there that I’ve been avoiding.”

Castiel frowned, knowing exactly to whom Sam was referring. Raphael, the self-proclaimed king of the senior class and all-around thug. For some reason the boy had dedicated himself to tugging Sam down as far as he could manage, goading him into fights and jeopardizing Sam’s tenuous place at school.

“You would rather not go?” Castiel asked, confused. It wasn’t like Sam to shy away from a situation just because it might be slightly unpleasant.

“No!” Sam said immediately, spreading his hands. “No, I just… I want to be there with the guys tonight. Kind of a thank you, you know?” Castiel nodded. He had watched Sam struggle all year to give all he could to the team.

“But?”

“But,” continued Sam, “Jo can’t go because she’s covering for Pamela. And Alfie doesn’t do very well at big parties. I just, I’m kind of…” he shook out his hair again. “Look, you know that I was messed up last year.” Castiel nodded again. “Well a lot of the stupid shit I did last year happened at parties. That’s why I haven’t gone to any this year. I’m just worried…” he huffed in frustration.

“You’re worried that being in a similar environment might prompt you to make poor choices.” Castiel finished for him.

Sam made a sour face but shrugged. “Yeah.”

“What could I do to help?” Cas asked.

“Well,” Sam looked away, a tinge of color coming into his cheeks, “I was hoping you’d come, too. Kinda, back me up, you know? Help me keep both feet on the ground.”

Castiel felt a burst of pride. Sam wanted his support. Sam wanted Castiel beside him through a difficult night.

“Of course, Sam.” He said immediately. Sam deflated, a grin spreading.

“Thanks, Cas. I know this kind of stuff isn’t really your thing. We don’t have to stay too long, just a little while. If it gets too much or anything we can leave.”

Castiel raised his mug to his lips. “Sam, if I managed donor galas with my father I’m sure I can survive one high school party.”

Sam laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asked, plopping down in his chair. He dropped a plate of cookies and a few other pastries on the table, stuffing half a Berliner in his mouth.

“Cas is just remembering what it was like before he was one of us peasants.” Sam smirked.

“I’ll have you know,” Gabriel said, appearing over Castiel’s shoulder, “that Novak blood is bluer than the Hope Diamond.”

Dean snorted around his mouthful. “Yeah, you’re a real prince, Gabe.”

Gabriel grinned. “A young bachelor with expensive tastes who does whatever he wants and has his pick of the ladies? You tell me what part of that doesn’t say aristocrat to you.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Cas is going to come with me to Brady’s tonight.” Sam said, a hard-edged smile daring Dean to object. Dean’s eyes tightened, his hand gripping his coffee tighter for a moment.

“Doesn’t really seem like your thing, Cas.” He said after a moment, deliberately casual.

Castiel wasn’t entirely sure where the sudden tension had come from but he guessed Dean was at least as nervous as Sam was about the temptations presented by this party. “I wouldn’t really know.” He said. “I was never allowed to attend this sort of thing before.”

“Dad wasn’t big on teenage debauchery.” Gabriel agreed with a laugh.

“Yeah, well.” Dean was scowling into his mug.

“Dean.” Sam said, his voice firm, “I’m not going to screw it all up now.”

Dean’s features loosened a touch and he scrubbed a hand over his chin. “Yeah. Well, just… Don’t be a dick, Sammy.” He said.

Surprisingly, Sam smiled. “I’ll try.”

 

* * * * *

 

The sight of Dean stretched back on Castiel’s plain blue comforter, one arm cradling his head against the headboard and his boots hanging off the edge of the mattress was enough to send Cas’s heart rate to medically unsound levels.

Despite the fact that Cas was still seventeen Gabriel had made it clear he didn’t care at all whether Dean was allowed in the apartment, not even in Castiel’s bedroom. In fact he seemed all in favor of it when Castiel had asked.

“I’m not policing your sex-life, Cas.” He’d said, grinning when Cas had blushed at his blunt words. With a salacious eyebrow waggle he’d added, “I got enough to handle on my own. One thing though, I swear to Odin that if I walk in on Dean Winchester boning my baby brother I won’t be held responsible for my actions. Keep the naughty parts out of sight, please.” 

Castiel blushed at the memory alone.

Dean tapped his toe against Cas’s thigh, calling his attention back to the present. “What’s with you today?” Dean asked, amused. He’d agreed to help Cas chose something to wear for the party before they headed out and had been watching Cas try to decide between a blue button up and one of the dozen novelty t-shirts Gabriel couldn’t seem to stop buying for him.

“What do you mean?” Cas asked, distracted. Jeans were surely fine, weren’t they?

Dean sat forward, slipping a hand around his waist and pulling him close. All thoughts of clothing were wiped from Cas’s mind completely. “You keep drifting off and getting all flustered. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were fantasizing about somebody.”

Cas pursed his lips, fighting the urge to lean his body closer into Dean’s.

“Someone got you all hot and bothered?” Dean grinned, running his thumbs over Cas’s hipbones. Castiel could swear he felt the touch zing down his legs like electricity.

“Don’t be so smug about it.” Cas warned, crowding forward to press a kiss to Dean’s jaw. One of those distracting hands immediately moved to cup the back of Castiel’s head and Dean’s laugh morphed into a pleased hum. He gripped Cas’s waist and kissed him back, leaning back as Cas curled forward over him. It was still thrilling to do this, that Cas was allowed to do this. To touch Dean when he wanted, to kiss him and breathe him in. Every single time it set a tingle in his blood and an itch in his fingers.

He hitched one leg up so his knee pressed into the mattress alongside Dean’s thigh, practically climbing into his lap. “Damnit, Cas.” Dean huffed as Cas nibbled at his bottom lip. Cas had discovered Dean’s reaction to that particular gesture only a week ago and had been using it since, every chance he got. Dean’s fingers dug a little deeper into Cas’s side and something like a growl rumbled in his throat.

“You don’t like this, Dean?” Cas teased, dropping his voice a bit as he skated his fingers across Dean’s chest. Dean pressed up into them, his lashes drooping to shade his eyes. And here was another facet of Dean Castiel was quickly coming to adore; the way he responded when Castiel touched him was intoxicating.

“Frigging love it.” Dean mumbled, scraping his teeth against Cas’s chin. “That’s why you gotta stop.”

They’d talked about it, Dean’s reluctance to go much further than this. Apparently the fact that Castiel was still a few months shy of his eighteenth birthday was a sticking point for him. Still, Cas enjoyed gently prodding at his boundaries. He smiled and let his lips drift across Dean’s cheekbone. “Or you could let me continue.” He suggested, dropping his hand to Dean’s thigh. He had no real intention of pushing Dean over the edge, but it was fun to tease him. He pushed the other hand into Dean’s hair, gripping short strands and tilting Dean’s head back to lick at the smooth curve of his collarbone. Sliding his palm across the rough denim of Dean’s jeans, he squeezed at Dean’s thigh and felt it snap taught beneath his fingers. Dean let out a little gasp.

Just as Cas’s thumb brushed Dean’s inseam a hand clamped almost painfully around his wrist and forced him to be still. Dean was completely rigid beneath him, his jaw clenched as he took a series of short, sharp breaths through his flaring nose. Castiel grinned and waited, unable to hide a curl of satisfaction at the mess he’d managed to make of his boyfriend in just a few short minutes.

Boyfriend still seemed a ridiculous word to call Dean. He was hardly a boy, thought Cas, smoothing his palm over Dean’s stubbled cheek. He was a friend, though. One of the best Castiel had ever had.

Cas stared at him as Dean struggled to control his breathing, his jaw clenched tightly and his fingers nearly grinding the bones in Castiel’s wrist. After several seconds and a few more deep breaths Dean opened his eyes and turned them on Castiel.

“I’m starting to see where you and Gabriel are related.” He groused, releasing Castiel’s hand.

“What do you mean?” Cas asked, dropping a final kiss on Dean’s cheek before taking a few necessary steps back. It would be so easy to shove Dean back onto the bed, to swarm up him like a storm and kiss him breathless. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure why but apparently that was a bad idea.

“That was a dirty freaking trick.” There was no anger in his voice as he dropped his elbows to his knees.

“It’s not a trick, Dean.” Cas smiled, picking up another shirt. “I enjoy touching you. If you had let me, I would have continued touching you for quite some time.”

Dean made a choked little laugh, looking carefully over Castiel’s shoulder rather than at him. “We’ve been through this, Cas. We’re not getting down and dirty ’til you’re eighteen.”

Castiel sighed. “You’ve said.”

Dean glanced at him with mischief in his eyes. “Getting a little impatient there, Cas?” he chuckled.

“Extremely.” Cas agreed, trying to smooth the wrinkles from the shirt. “I think I’ve masturbated more in the last few weeks than I have in the entire rest of my life put together.”

The strangled sound Dean made was immensely satisfying.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Cas asked solicitously, watching as Dean’s jaw flapped open and closed for a few seconds.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Cas.” He breathed, gripping the comforter tight enough to whiten his knuckles. “I swear to God you’re going to kill me.”

“I doubt that.” Cas smiled, turning his attention back to the mirror.

By the time he’d settled on an outfit for the evening - jeans, a plain blue t-shirt and black button up - Dean had regained a bit of his composure. In fact, when Cas turned back he found him frowning.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” he asked.

Dean grunted, suddenly looking anywhere but Cas. “You’ll uh, you’ll look out for Sammy tonight, right?”

Ah. “Sam doesn’t need looking after.” Cas reminded him gently. “He knows his limitations.” Dean looked doubtful but Cas pressed on. “He is well aware that this party might not be the best place for him, that’s why he asked me along. He said he wants to be sure he keeps his feet on the ground. I can promise you both that I’ll do everything I can to help him.”

Dean stared at him for a moment before he nodded. “Thanks, Cas.” He breathed.

Cas smiled. “I am going to get changed now. I think you might want to leave for this part.” Castiel would much rather Dean stayed - the idea of Dean’s eyes on his skin was electrifying - but perhaps he had teased them both enough for now.

Dean rose and suddenly Castiel found himself trapped against the mirror, Dean’s elbows bracketed on either side of his head and their bodies pressed together from knee to shoulder. Dean kissed him, quick and hard, punctuating it with a sharp roll of his hips. Cas grunted against Dean’s mouth and gripped Dean’s elbows hard. Dean pulled away and slapped Cas’s thigh smugly.

“Fuel for later.” He said with a wink. “If you’re going to play dirty then so am I.” With a cheeky smirk he turned away, leaving Cas with a now-wrinkled shirt and no air left in his lungs.


	3. Let Your Hair Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!! So today marks one year since I posted the first chapter of Love, All Alike. Seriously, thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me since then, or joined along the way. Hearing from you guys has helped me grow in confidence and to look at my writing more objectively. This community has been more supportive than I could have ever hoped, andI look forward to being part of it for another year.  
> Okay, enough sappy crap. On to the main event!

Cas pressed his fingers to his temple, trying to ignore the building buzz of a headache and thinking that Sam had been right; parties were most certainly _not_ his “thing”. The dim lights and thumping bass vibrating through his ribs weren’t doing much to help the overwhelming sense of unease clawing at him. He was leaning against the wall of the sitting room, a wide, two-story spread of white and black furnishings that still managed to feel claustrophobic. There was just so much. Too much. Dozens of people pressed around him, drunken shouts filling his ears. He smelled perfume, alcohol and the sour tang of body oder. The air tasted like smoke and stale breath. No wonder Sam hadn’t wanted to face this alone.

They’d arrived before most of the other guests, when the lights were still on and a non-shouted conversation was still possible. Brady’s parents owned a lovely, large home on the outskirts of town and he had invited the team and anyone else who felt like attending -including Castiel, apparently - to celebrate their win. His parents had left for the night, choosing to stay with a relative and let their son “have his moment”, as Sam had put it. Castiel found it hard to imagine that level of permissiveness in a parent, but he had learned his parental experience wasn’t exactly average.

Someone slammed into his shoulder, slopping beer across the front of his shirt.

“Sorry, man.” The stranger slurred drunkenly. Castiel just frowned at the stain spreading down his t-shirt. The boy slapped him far too hard on the shoulder in what may have been an apology and disappeared back into the mass of bodies surrounding them.

Cas craned his neck to peer above the crowd, looking for Sam’s outline head and shoulders above the rest.

He was over by the mantlepiece with a few of his teammates, recalling some of the game’s highlights if their hand motions were any indication. Sam appeared to be in good spirits, laughing and talking with James and a boy Castiel was pretty sure was named Mark. At first he had stuck close to Castiel, but Cas had assured him that he would be fine if Sam wanted to speak to his other friends. Castiel still tended to make strangers uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to impose too much on Sam’s night. He kept Sam in sight, but mostly he just watched the party go on around him.

Mark and James were swaying slightly but appeared to be mostly sober. Unlike everyone else here, thought Cas, yanking his knees up to his chest to avoid being rammed in the shins by a pair of fifteen-year-olds who had decided to start an impromptu wrestling match. What _was_ the appeal of drinking so much you could hardly stand up? Perhaps you had to try it to understand.

Sam appeared to be the only sober person in the room, aside from Cas. Castiel knew that was no accident. When they’d arrived Brady had offered Castiel a beer but not Sam. By some unspoken agreement Brady had provided Sam with a case of soda, showing him where it was hidden in the garage if he needed a refill. At first Castiel had thought perhaps none of the athletes would be drinking. After all, underage drinking could get them banned from the team next year. That went out the window a moment later when Brady poured himself a cup of wine. Castiel presumed it had something to do with what Sam had gone through the year before. He didn’t know the details, or at least not many of them. Sam had made some poor choices, trusted the wrong people, perhaps, and ended up with a drug problem. It seemed that when he decided to get clean, alcohol went out the window with the rest of it. It made sense. He would be more likely to make a poor choice if he was already inebriated.

When one of the younger players had started teasing Sam about his drink choice Cas had seen Sam’s eyes tighten. Brady had immediately told the kid to back off and he had, but Sam’s posture remained guarded. As more and more people arrived, some of them already drunk enough to breathe fire, Sam just became more and more tense.

As if sensing Cas’s eyes on him, Sam looked up, smiling and tipping his soda can in salute. Cas responded with a surprisingly genuine smile of his own. Even if this place was starting to make his bones ache he was glad to see Sam enjoying himself.

Castiel’s skin along his waist was starting to itch, the sticky cotton clinging uncomfortably to his skin. Perhaps he could steal a few moments to reset and clean up if he found a bathroom. Catching Sam’s eye again he motioned toward the hall and received a nod in return. Well, nothing else for it. He grit his teeth and dove into the crowd, shoving in the general direction of the stairway. He was fairly certain he’s spied a small powder room beneath them.

Before he’d even made it to the hall he was starting to feel like hands were all over him, pulling at his skin. It was like all around him people were speaking a foreign language.

“I don’t understand why she would do that to me!” one voice whined. “I am _always there for her-“_

“Dude, you gotta go!” cried another. “It’s such a good venue! And the drinks are so cheap.”

“Fuck that guy. He’s such an asshole.”

“I can talk to whoever I WANT!”

It all melded into a mash of nonsense syllables, pressing in on him like a physical weight. By the time he reached the bathroom door he practically threw himself through it, only to find the room already occupied.

The smell of vomit hit him first, then a round, strangely thick scent he didn’t recognize. A squat, square figure knelt on the floor with his forehead pressed to the toilet seat and the air was filled with smoke. A rough, hacking dry-heave contorted the poor boy’s body over the bowl and he let out something between a moan and a sob.

“Apologies.” Cas murmured, pressing a hand over his nose to ward off the stink. The floor was upsettingly sticky beneath his shoes and he tried not to think of it.

“Fuck you, man.” Groaned the figure. Castiel’s body locked up as he recognized the voice. It would be a very good idea to turn around and leave. Immediately. But something about the pathetic slump of his shoulders had him taking a careful step forward. He touched a tentative two fingers to the boy’s shoulder, eliciting a pained groan.

“Go the fuck away.” He moaned.

“Are you alright?” Cas asked. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was asking. The boy had tormented him, cornered him, threatened him, forced him to defend himself more times than he could count. This boy had sent him to the hospital and spray-painted a demeaning slur across his locker for the whole school to see. By all rights Cas should leave him to soak in his own puke and misery. But the idea only registered at the very back of his brain as he assessed the state the boy was actually in. He had turned his face to press his cheek to the seat and Castiel could see exactly how terrible he looked. He looked nearly blue in the harsh bathroom light, his hands trembling faintly. He had drunk far, far too much.

“The fuck you talkin’ about?” the boy mumbled, his eyes rolling lazily open.

Cas tried again. “Kennedy?”

“The fuck are you?” he groaned, turning his face away. A violent shiver coursed through him and his chin drummed on the toilet seat.

“Kennedy, I think you need medical attention.”

Kennedy reared back, blinking myopically at him with a puzzled scowl. “Android?” he drawled as his eyes came into focus, a trail of spit dangling from his bottom lip.

“Who are you here with?” Cas demanded, gripping his shoulder just in case he decided to take a drunken swing.

“What do you care, faggot?” He snarled.

“Is Rigby here? Or Raphael?”

A hideous grin split his slack face. “Mark.” He said. Ah, so Rigby was here somewhere. “Mark is gonna slice you.” He chuckled, his eyes almost burning.

Castiel decided to thing about what that might mean later. Turning away he marched back out into the hall, peering around for a familiar, pock-marked face. He found him in the kitchen, glaring angrily at a group of pretty sophomore girls. A few other boys Cas recognized as hangers-on to Raphael were nearby, drinking from some sort of hand-made fountain contraption while a crowd cheered.

Cas made sure to place himself so that he could easily avoid a lung or strike, with as clear a shot to the door as he could manage. “Rigby!” he shouted over the music. The boy’s head snapped around, panic and hatred battling in his eyes. Did he think Castiel was here to start something?

He tried to keep it as short and simple as possible. “Kennedy is in the bathroom. I believe he is in the beginning stages of alcohol poisoning. I suggest you get him some medical attention.”

That was as far as his charity extended. He hurried away, taking the stairs and hoping there would be another wash room upstairs. He found one with only a short line of people waiting. When his turn came he used a hand towel to wipe his shirt as clean as he could manage and headed back downstairs. As he was passing the bathroom he saw Rigby and another boy half-dragging, half-carrying Kennedy towards the front door, their faces caught between annoyance and worry.

Well, hopefully he would get some medical attention then.

Cas paused at the edge of the sitting room, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Perhaps it was understandable that the sight of Kennedy, even a drunk, nearly unconscious Kennedy, brought on a wave of adrenaline. He was an enemy. He instinctively wanted to find Sam, to tell him what had happened and take comfort in the presence of a friend. He felt exposed, like Rigby might come back any moment now that he knew Castiel was here, or send some of his friends to attack him. But when he caught sight of Sam, his smile wide as his friend Marissa told a story and his teammates laughed, he couldn’t bring himself to bring a shadow to him.

He sighed. Well, at least there was the a place for him to sit not far away, where he could keep an eye on Sam and the door. He perched on the arm of an expensive leather sofa, ignoring the pair of younger students vigorously making out at the other end.

It would be fine. Rigby and the others would have their hands full with getting Kennedy home or to a hospital. They wouldn’t have the time or the courage to come after him in the middle of a crowded party. He would not go to the bathroom again, or anywhere else where he might be cornered.

He was so busy thinking about it that he barely noticed when a young woman slid into the seat beside him.

“Well hello there, gorgeous.” Cas startled as a long-fingered hand slid across his forearm. The woman smiled, her long blond hair falling over her pointed shoulders in soft waves. She was not a student at Lawrence, at least not one he’d ever seen. He was pretty sure he’d have remembered her. She was very pretty, looking up at him with enormous, wide-set eyes that looked nearly black in the dim light.

“Hello.” Castiel said reflexively, trying to decide exactly how rude it would be to shake off her touch.

“You look tense.” There was something extremely unsettling about the way she was looking at him. Her fingernails against his skin were blood red.

When he was silent she continued. “I noticed you’re not drinking your beer.” She purred, leaning forward so her breast pressed against his elbow. That couldn’t have been comfortable for her, he thought. He spared a glance around to make sure Sam was where he’d left him and the was no sign of Rigby returning.

“No.” He agreed. He had never had beer before and he found he disliked the strange bitter tang of it.

“This label’s piss.” She informed him, plucking the bottle from his hand and taking a large gulp. She scowled as she swallowed. “I wouldn’t drink it either.” She leaned forward to drop the now half-empty bottle on the table, once again pressing into him and giving him a very clear view down her flimsy black top. As she settled back against the cushion she delicately twirled a lock of hair around one finger. Castiel couldn’t help but think there was something reptilian about her gaze.

“Not into parties, hm?” she guessed, her teeth flashing in the darkness.

“This is my first.” Castiel admitted. “Unless church functions count.” He doubted that they did. They were certainly nothing like this. 

She chuckled. “Oh sweetie, you’re going about this all wrong.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean?” he hadn’t been aware of any actions he was supposed to take attending a party. Sam had told him to just relax.

“Parties are _fun,_ babe.” The girl told him. “You’re supposed to loosen up. Let your hair down.”

“My hair is down.” Cas said.

The girl rolled her eyes. “Ok, Mr. Literal. I mean you’re supposed to let go a little.”

“Of what?”

“Of all this control you’ve got such a tight grip on.” Her fingers crawled up his chest, gliding across his collarbone just above the neck of his shirt. It made his skin crawl. “I’m good at reading what people need. It’s a gift. You know what you need?”

“What?” Castiel wished there was enough room for him to put some space between them without falling off the arm of the sofa.

She leaned up to press her sticky lips to his ear. “You need to relax.” She murmured and slipped something into his hand.

He looked down to find a small green tablet in his palm. “What is this?” he asked, hoping it would help with a headache.

The girl licked her lips. “Call it a free sample.” She suggested, stroking her hand along his knee. She didn’t seem to care that it was wet with beer and started gently massaging it.

“Sample of what?” Cas asked, ignoring her touch and peering closer at the pill. It appeared to have a small S stamped on it, like the symbol of that flying alien in the movies Dean had made him watch. Perhaps it was a children’s vitamin?

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Cas looked up to find a very angry Sam Winchester towering over them. Sam was very good at towering, especially when he was angry. He had rarely seen Sam so angry, only once that he could remember. When he’d received a call months ago from a lawyer. Was this, then, the infamous Ruby?

“Well hey there, Winchester.” The woman hummed with a pleased smile, but some of the silk had gone out of her tone. “Long time, no see.”

Sam’s face was like granite. “What the _fuck_ are you doing here, Lilith?” he repeated. Not Ruby then. Still, clearly someone who had a place in Sam’s troubled past. Sam glanced to Cas, his eyes widening as he took in the little pill in Cas’s palm. “Cas!” he snapped, snatching the pill away. For a moment panic and rage vied for dominance in Sam’s expression.

Oh.

“I didn’t take anything.” Cas assured him, realizing what this must be. Definitely not for a headache, then. And certainly not for children.

He stood and placed a reassuring hand on Sam’s forearm. Sam huffed in relief but a muscle in his jaw jumped. He threw the pill at Lilith and it bounced off her chest, falling to the ground. “Stay the fuck away from us.” He hissed, stepping between her and Cas. His arms trembled as he clenched his fists, the tendons in his neck standing out starkly. He radiated aggression in every line of his body.

She seemed unfazed by his fury, just smiling serenely. “So this is one of your friends? How sweet of you to bring me business.”

Sam growled and took a half a step forward, Cas catching the hem of his sleeve in warning. Sam flicked a glance back at him and Cas saw a tiny fraction of the heat melt from his eyes. He gave a tight nod. Lilith’s eyes tracked the movement, one eyebrow arching.

“I’ve missed you, Sam.” She said. “You look good.”

Sam actually growled. “Save it. Ruby didn’t give the cops your name but I sure as hell will if you ever talk to this guy again.”

Lilith tutted, tossing back her hair. “You don’t seem happy to see me.” She pouted.

“No shit.” Sam deadpanned.

“And we had so many good times.” With a put-upon sigh she unwound to stand nearly chest-to-chest with him. From where he stood Cas could almost feel the muscles in Sam’s back straining against the urge to move, to fall back or launch at her. “I know you’re working on this whole ‘above the influence’ thing right now.” She said, her tone dripping with sugar. “That’s cute. But when you pull that stick out of your ass and decide you want to have some fun again, call me.” She said, slapping his ass as she walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Sam stared after her, murder in his eyes.

“Sam?” Cas asked uncertainly, brushing his fingers against Sam’s wrist. The taller boy’s head snapped around, his nostrils flared and his lips tight. He blinked at Cas and a little of the fury leaked out of him.

“You ok, Cas?” He demanded.

“Fine.” Cas nodded immediately. All thoughts of Rigby were extinguished in the face of Sam’s anger. “I only spoke to her for a few minutes.”

Sam peered at him for a long moment before nodding. “Come on.” He grunted and pushed his way through the crowd. Castiel followed close behind him - it was much easier to move through the crowd with Sam’s bulk cutting a path. When he realized Sam was leading them to little office where Brady had put their coats his heart sank. Perhaps his presence hadn’t been helpful after all.


	4. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Slinks shamefacedly into the room two months later* Uhhh, hi guys. So the Real World kinda filled my schedule these last few months and I haven’t been able to sit down and hang out with the boys very much. Sorry about that. I’m not too pleased with this chapter but it’s hopefully the gateway back into regular updates here. Fingers crossed…  
> Feedback is life!

Dean flicked the cap of his beer along his knuckles, determined to keep his eyes on the tv and not on the clock. Val Kilmer was just telling Michael Biehn he was his huckleberry on the porch of the brothel and Dean tried to focus on the pure awesomeness that was Doc Holliday. Of course he was badass enough to have pearl-handled pistols. And that shoulder holster was hot as hell. Who didn’t like cowboys? Nobody, that’s who. If they weren’t so damn uncomfortable Dean would totally have gotten himself a pair of cowboy boots a long time ago. Well, that and Sam and everyone else he knew would definitely rip him a new one for wearing them. He’d given Sam enough shit for his short-lived emo phase in middle school to warrant the payback.

Even gunslingers and epic moustaches couldn’t quite keep Dean’s attention and he had to yank his gaze off the second hand yet again. It didn’t matter what time it was, he told himself harshly. Sam didn’t have a curfew. Dean wasn’t their dad - not that John had ever enforced a curfew. Sam was smart enough to know his limits. He’d been sober for months. Today was a good day, no stress. Victory day. Sam wouldn’t be dumb enough to screw it all up now. Just like he’d said.

Then again, he was a Winchester.

Dean growled and rolled up off the futon, flicking his bottle cap into the corner. He should have worked later so he wouldn’t have to sit here with this thumb up his ass waiting for a phone call he hoped he wouldn’t get. Ruby was still rotting in jail, Sam was clean, and Dean needed to chill the hell out. It was a goddamn high school party, not the apocalypse. They could handle this. Sam had taken _Cas_ , for god’s sake. If that wasn’t a prophylactic against stupid decisions Dean didn’t know what was.In fact, the idea that Cas was out there with him was probably the only reason Dean hadn’t hopped in the impala and stalked Sam’s ass out to that party three hours ago.

He downed the rest of his beer and dropped the empty bottle on the kitchen counter with unnecessary force. The clock ticked smugly at him.

Snatching a glass from the cupboard he reached up on top of the fridge for the emergency whiskey. It was still half-full and Dean figured since he hadn’t thought to steal some extra pie from Gabe’s that afternoon this was pretty much all he had to keep him from climbing the wall. As his fingers closed around the bottle he frowned. Was something stuck to the back of it?

A bright yellow post-it glared up at him from the label, a familiar scribble across it.

 

_Not an option_

 

Dean snorted, rereading the smudged ink three times.

Not an option.

For a split second he was sitting in that hard, hideous hospital chair fighting just to keep from shaking apart. Staring down at the needle taped neatly into the back of Sam’s hand, unable to meet the shame and desperation in his little brother’s eyes, that’s what he’d said. _Not an option_.

“Goddamnit, Sammy.” He huffed, and slid the bottle back on top of the fridge.

 

* * * * *

 

They’d been walking for some time, the streetlights glinting off the puddled pavement as they passed darkened houses, lines of cars and the steel grates of shut-up storefronts. Now and then they saw another person - a car passing, an old man walking a portly German Shepherd - but for the most part it was as if all of Lawrence were tucked away for the night. Castiel trailed behind Sam, unsure what to say or do to ease the tension hunching his friend’s shoulders. He kept his hands in his pockets against the bitter chill and wondered if Sam even felt the cold in his anger. 

They were following the tatty wooden fence of a wooded park with a small playground deserted in the darkness when the tension finally broke. As they crossed beneath a blown-out streetlamp Cas caught his toe on a storm drain, stumblingbefore he caught himself. Sam looked back, pausing for the first time since they’d left Brady’s. Cas could just see the clenched outline of his jaw and the wide arch of one flared nostril. A hiss of indrawn breath pulled his shoulders sharp beneath his coat for a moment before he blew it out again, deflating in a defeated slump. He stared at the sidewalk, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Sam?” Cas ventured, tentatively touching his friend’s arm.

Sam didn’t pull away, just glanced down at Castiel’s fingers. Cas wasn’t sure if the crinkle of his cheek was a smile or a grimace. Sam looked around, shaking off the bitter shell he’d been locked away in since they left Brady’s.

“Come on, Cas.” He muttered, his voice unreadable. He turned towards the park gate, the faint tang of wet wood chips drifting up under their feet as he led them to a rubber-coated picnic table in the shadow of a large plastic castle. He sat on the edge, leaning his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. Cas stood by, watching and wondering what he was meant to say. How was he supposed to fix this? What was he supposed to do to make this easier for Sam?

He didn’t know. He could hear the harsh rush of Sam’s breath, still too fast and deep.

“Are you alright?” murmured Cas, watching a damp leaf slither across the tarmac as the wind picked up.

Sam shook out his hair and scrubbed his fingers through it in frustration. “I’m fine, Cas.” He lied. “Are _you_ ok?”

“I’m as fine as you are.” Cas answered. Sam snorted. Cas carefully perched on the bench beside Sam’s knee, straining through the darkness to watch the younger boy’s face. “I’m sorry Lilith upset you.” He ventured. “I hadn’t realized what she was offering me. I wouldn’t have taken it.”

Sam was nodding before he finished. “I know, Cas. I know. I just kind of…panicked.” A strange half-smile tugged at his mouth.

“Seeing her?” Cas guessed.

“Being there.” Sam replied. “The noise, the smells, everything. I wanted a hit so fucking bad.”

Castiel startled at the swear. That one word told Cas more than anything yet that his friend was deeply shaken.

“It was _painful._ ” Sam continued. _“_ I mean, it actually _hurt_. I didn’t expect that. It hasn’t hurt like that in a long time. If it had been anyone but her…” Sam dropped his head again, trembling hard. For once Castiel knew what he was thinking. Sam was thinking that if it had been anyone else offering him something, whatever that drug in Lilith’s hand had been, Sam would have taken it. Castiel knew better.

“You walked away, Sam.” Cas told him, gripping his wrist. “You would have walked away no matter who it was.”

“How do you know?” Sam demanded, his tone both challenging and pleading. He wanted Cas to have an answer.

Cas did. “Because you asked me to come tonight.” He said simply. “You know yourself well enough to know that whatever you felt in that moment, it was not what you really want. You were smart enough to think ahead. To acknowledge your weakness and strengthen yourself against it. I may not have been much help but the fact that you brought me along means you didn’t need me to be.”

Sam stared at him, his shaking of his hands slowly stilling. “You did help.” He whispered, shame clinging to his voice. He put his hand over Cas’s on his wrist and squeezed hard. “I might have. If you weren’t there. I would have.”

Cas smiled. “You don’t know that. Don’t shoulder the guilt for something you haven’t done.” he said, softer. “You walked away.” Sam didn’t answer, just gave Cas’s wrist an extra little squeeze. “She was your… dealer?” Cas asked. The word felt strange to say and Sam flinched.

“Yeah.” Admitted Sam. “Well, she was Ruby’s first. Ruby knew her from when they were kids. When all that happened last year…” he coughed out a hollow laugh. “I don’t know if I was ever delusional enough to think she was a friend. But I at least thought, I don’t know.” He shook his head again and harshed a laugh. “God, you still don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you? I’ll tell you all that shit, Cas. I really will.”

“You don’t have to.” Cas reminded him. He meant it. He wasn’t owed anything, especially not anything Sam wasn’t ready to give.

Sam looked up, something fierce and determined in his face. “I know that. I _want_ you to know. Just… maybe not now.”

Cas nodded, not really sure what else he was meant to do.

“I didn’t think Lilith would show her face tonight.” Sam explained, slowly relaxing as he let the words spill. Cas just listened, hoping that maybe that was what his friend needed. “And seeing the - in her hand… just _there,_ like it was… I just…” he sighed. “That was harder than I thought it would be.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Sam contemplating his hands and Cas contemplating Sam. The taller boy was very good at hiding himself away. Both Winchesters seemed adept at concealing what was really going on inside their minds but Sam was more subtle about it. Castiel had known Sam was uncomfortable at times that night, but at others he’d have said there was nothing out of place in Sam’s easy smile. To realize he’d been so stricken, in actual _pain_ and Castiel hadn’t even noticed was upsetting.

The wind rattled through the trees. Cas couldn’t suppress a shiver and for the first time Sam seemed to feel the cold too.

“Shit.” He muttered, looking around. “Where even are we?”

“I’m not sure.” Cas admitted. He stood and drew his coat tighter around himself. “We walked a very long way, I think.”

“Yeah,” Sam cracked a weak smile. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tsked at the darkened screen. “Dead. Sorry about that. I’ll just go find the nearest cross-street and see if I recognize the names. Wait here.”

Castiel wasn’t sure as he watched Sam trot off into the darkness if Sam wanted to give Cas some space or needed a bit for himself. Either way he planted himself back on the bench and drew his phone from his pocket. He could look up their location just as well. And besides, he wasn’t even sure what time it was.

He swiped his thumb over the screen to find it was nearly one in the morning, and he had somehow missed twelve text messages. All from Dean.

 

**Dean: How’s the party? - 9:13pm**

 

**Dean: That good, hu? - 9:48pm**

 

Castiel smiled, wondering how many times Dean had picked up his phone and put it back down before deciding to actually text him.

 

**Dean: Are you drinking? Have you ever been drunk before? - 10:06pm**

 

**Dean: Bet you’re a sloppy drunk - 10:09pm**

 

**Dean: Bet you never got wasted before. We should do that some time - 10:21pm**

 

**Dean: If you want to - 10:23pm**

 

**Dean: You doing ok? Getting a headache? - 11:08pm**

 

**Dean: This is the shittiest movie I’ve ever seen in my life. - 11:52pm**

 

**Dean: Why is it the hot chicks never learned to run when shit goes down? - 11:59pm**

 

**Dean: The frigging zombies ate her. - 12:12am**

 

**Dean: If you guys need a ride home call me. I’ll be up - 12:25am**

 

**Dean: They made a damn SEQUEL. This is gonna be terrible - 12:40am**

 

Castiel was just pulling up a response screen when Sam came padding out of the darkness.

“The locomotive just over there.” Sam said, pointing back the way he’d come. “We’re in Buford Watson Park.”

Castiel vaguely recalled seeing the old train engine on the tour Gabriel had put together when he’s first moved here. He didn’t remember where that meant they were in relation to the rest of the city but Sam seemed confident.

“Shall I call Dean? He texted earlier offering us a ride home.” Cas was surprised to see Sam’s shoulders bunch in reaction to that news but after a deep inhale Sam just nodded.

“Sure.” Castiel peered at him, wondering why Sam seemed to hate the idea, but another blast of wind convinced him to switch from text to phone and press send.

Dean picked up before the first ring had finished.

“Cas?” he sounded oddly breathless and Castiel wondered if he’d dived for the phone.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas answered, keeping his gaze on Sam. The younger Winchester’s eyes had slipped closed… resignation? “We would like a ride home, if you’re still offering.”

“Sure thing.” Dean agreed immediately. Cas thought he could hear keys jingling. Had Dean already had them in hand? “You at Brady’s?”

“No, actually.” Cas said, hearing the pause as Dean’s breath caught on the other end. Sam clenched his hands, looking for all the world like he was standing in front of a firing squad. Cas could feel the weight of both Winchester’s waiting for him to continue. “I’m afraid I found Brady’s party overwhelming.” He said. “I needed to clear my head. Sam and I took a walk.” None of it was strictly a lie, and Cas grew more confident in his words as he saw Sam’s shoulders fall again and his fists unclench.

Dean’s relieved chuckle sounded in his ear and Cas suppressed a shiver that had little to do with the cold. “We walked farther than I’d meant to. We’re at…” he paused, raising his eyebrows at Sam.

“Tennessee and West 7th.” Sam supplied, staring at Cas gratefully as he repeated their location into the phone.

“Got it. Be there in fifteen.” Dean said.

“Thank you, Dean.” He hung up and began scrolling through his contacts. “I suppose I should text Gabriel.” He admitted guiltily.

 

**Castiel: I’m just getting a ride back to Sam’s. I don’t like parties. - 1:22am**

 

He looked up to find Sam with his hands buried in his pockets, his huge boots scuffing through the wood chips.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Why didn’t you want me to call Dean?”

Sam grunted, working his jaw for a moment before he answered. “I know Dean’s probably been a wreck all night. He worries a lot about stuff. Me. Calling him to bail us out kind of feels like I’m letting him down. It’s fine. It’s dumb.”

“I think I see.” Cas said. “But you got yourself out of a situation you didn’t want to be in. He would be proud of you for that.”

“I don’t want to lie to Dean about this kind of stuff. That’s… that’s kind of part of the deal.” Sam murmured.

“What deal?” Cas asked.

“When I was doing rehab. Therapy. All that.” Sam was looking right at him, not avoiding his eyes at all as he explained. Dean would have been looking anywhere else. “Tessa, my therapist, she said that if I was going to make this work, stay sober, I had to be honest with Dean. I can’t hide this stuff from him. I have to… let him help me.”

“You don’t have to lie to him.” Cas nodded. “I certainly didn’t. The party did give me a headache. We did take a walk.”

Sam frowned. “That’s lying by omission.” He complained.

“Only if we intended to keep the truth from him.” Cas answered. “I gave him the truth as he needed it now. Dean driving late at night upset over something that came to nothing in the end is not something either of you need. I’m sure he will press you for details of the evening later. You can tell him then. Or before then, if you wish.”

Sam considered for a minute before nodding. “Ok. I guess.”

They stood in an awkward silence, the plastic castle staring down at them.

“Tessa is cool.” Sam said finally, sinking back onto the picnic table.

“Your therapist?”

“Yeah.” Sam’s smile seemed genuine. “She’s funny. I think Dean would have hit on her if she weren’t my shrink.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I seem to remember Jo saying he would flirt with anything with a pulse.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, well. Tessa’s nice. And smart. And really good at her job. That was part of the deal for me, you know. Go to therapy, get help getting clean and I would get to stay in school, not go to juvie like Ruby.”

Cas just nodded.

“They sent me to a different shrink first, actually. Some dick in a tie. He said I pushed Dean away because I resented him for controlling me.”

“Did you?” Cas asked, curious.

“Probably at least a little true.” Sam shrugged. “But Tessa, she’s smart. She got it. She said I was trying to prove that I didn’t need Dean looking after me anymore. But not because I don’t want him to. He’s my big brother. He’ll always look out for me. I was trying to show him I can look after myself now. I can look after him, too. He doesn’t need to spend every minute watching out for me. He can have a life. Tessa, she saw that.”

Cas watched Sam slide his fingers along the edge of the table, picking at a tear in the coating. “Even Dean likes Tessa. And he hates therapists.”

“Dean’s been to therapy?” Cas couldn’t contain the note of surprise.

“Well, mine.” Sam chuckled. “But no, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a shrink’s office otherwise.”

“He loves you very much.” Cas agreed.

Sam leaned back and hissed his annoyance through his teeth. “Yeah. He does. I just wish he wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass about it sometimes.”

Somewhere nearby a dog began to bark. Castiel listened for a moment before Sam spoke again. “Thanks. For tonight. I know it couldn’t have been fun.”

“It was interesting.” Cas allowed.

Sam snorted. “Not exactly a ringing endorsement of high school life, hu?”

Cas smiled. “Is there a ringing endorsement of high school life? Anywhere?”

Sam laughed. “A John Hughes movie, maybe?” At Cas’s blank expression Sam laughed again. “Not making the movie night list, Cas, sorry. They’re terrible.”

They chatted about movies and every minute Sam seemed a bit lighter, a bit looser, until finally they heard the familiar growl of the impala. Dean was driving slow along the street, peering out into the dark. When he caught sight of them he honked, as if they weren’t both looking right at him, and rolled to a stop.

“Come on.” Sam said, jumping up. “It’s fricken freezing out here.”

Sam slid into the front seat and Cas in the back, sinking gratefully against the warm leather with twin sighs. Castiel’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he drew it out

“Evening, ladies.” Dean chirped, his eyes sparkling with unwarranted glee. “Where to?”

“Home.” Sam sighed. “I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah? You… doing ok?” Dean pulled back onto the road, carefully studying the street signs instead of his brother. Sam stared at him for a moment before he let his head drop against the window.

“Fine, Dean. I’m just tired.” His voice was monotone.

“I noticed the sodas you were drinking were decaffeinated.” Cas piped up. “Perhaps next time you should ask Brady for something with caffeine.”

Dean and Sam made identical noises that Cas wasn’t sure how to interpret. Humor? Disbelief? He was too tired to parse it out. “Don’t think there will be a ‘next time’ anytime soon, Cas.” Sam grumbled.

“Ok by me, Sammy.” Dean smiled, his eyes catching Cas’s in the mirror. “Ok by me.”


	5. Just Like That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again NaNoWriMo rolled around and once again I was completely unprepared. So, since I won’t be able to get 50,000 words on anything new accomplished I have decided that I want to sort of participate by posting as many new words as possible here by the time my holiday vacation begins December fourteenth! Those words will be split (definitely not evenly) between this piece and my other WIP, “Along the Bending Path, Away”.With any luck I’ll get way past 50,000 so root for me, please!   
> Since I’m focused on word count I apologize if these next few chapters are even rougher than my usual posts in terms of typos and mistakes. I’d appreciate you letting me know about any you catch since I am very very not good at editing. As always feedback is more than appreciated!

Sam leaned his head against the window and watched his breath spreading in a chilled cloud to obscure the slick streets sliding by. Dean was drumming his thumbs against the steering wheel and bobbing his head along to music that wasn’t playing, paying more careful attention to the street signs than he ever would normally. He was nervous. Sam was willing to bet his brother had spent the whole night tearing his hair out, picking up and putting down the car keys as he argued with himself about whether or not to come pull his little brother out of the fire.

A tired smile stretched Sam’s lips. He hadn’t come. Sam had honestly expected his brother to make a not-so-casual appearance at some point in the night. Or at the very least he’d expected to come home and find his brother drunk as a skunk and collapsed on the futon. But here was Dean, sober enough to drive and only here at Cas’s request. Maybe this trust thing would work out after all.

Sam let his hair fall across his cheek as he tilted his head further back. He was exhausted. He felt shaky, worn down and liable to fly apart at any minute. It was a frighteningly familiar feeling, and one he hadn’t felt in a long time. He hated it, the weakness in his limbs, the slight tremor in his hands and feet. The buzz of the party, the noise and the smells…everything in him had been begging for a hit. Just one. Just to let him focus, keep him from ricochetting from sound to sound, touch to touch, completely out of control. He craved that lazer focus that let him brush off all the extra bullshit. He _needed_ it. It wasn’t even a choice anymore. Ecstasy had never been his drug, but even that stupid little green pill in Cas’s hand had blazed like a beacon, calling out to him with a siren promise of release. He was still floating, untethered. It was better now that he was out of Brady’s away from every trigger, but that crawling ache was still there just under his fingernails.

Thank god for Cas. Sitting there staring at that damn tablet like it was some exotic bug. Or a pretty seashell he’d found on the beach. If it hadn’t sparked a holocaust of rage in Sam’s gut that sight would definitely have made him burst out in hysterical giggles. Cas on ecstasy. Cas on anything. He shook his head, unable to imagine it at all. He’d never even seen Cas drink a beer before tonight. Sam glanced in the review mirror. Cas was sitting quietly, his hands placed one on top of the other, palm-up in his lap. He looked almost like some sort of modern Buddha, his face serenely blank as he stared out the window.

Sooner than he realized they were pulling into their driveway, Dean carefully maneuvering the Impala into her narrow space with his tongue caught between his teeth. As he killed the engine and they all stepped out into the frigid night air Sam felt his bones creak with weariness. God damn he needed sleep.

“So you guys wanna watch a movie or head straight to bed?” Dean twirled his keys around his index finger, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Sam was half annoyed and half thrilled to see him so happy about just picking them up.

“It’s one thirty in the morning, Dean.” Cas said, hunched inside his thin coat. Sam honestly couldn’t tell if he was incredulous at Dean’s manic energy or just informing Dean of the time.

“Yeah. No. I know.” Dean said quickly, leading them to the front door and jiggling the sticky lock. “Just thought you might need to wind down or something. Is Gabriel waiting up on you?”

Cas snorted. “When I texted to inform him where I was he said-“ he raised his phone to read directly from the screen, “‘If you’re sober enough to type you’re not doing parties right.’ Then there is a picture of a frowning yellow man blowing steam out his mouth.”

Dean snorted and Sam chuckled as they all tromped up the stairs in a line. “That’s a sigh emoji, Cas.” He explained.

“Yes. Gabriel is very fond of those.” Cas grumbled. “Particularly the smiling feces and the one that’s vomiting.” He dropped his phone back in his pocket as Sam and Dean shared a nearly identical snort. Cas ignored them and yawned, his jaw popping. Sam didn’t miss the soft, adoring look Dean cast back over his shoulder at his sleepy boyfriend. Eugh. Suddenly Sam regretted getting between the two of them on the narrow stairs.

Not that he wasn’t happy for Dean. And Cas. He’d been shocked as hell when Dean had admitted to wanting Cas, but it had only taken him about four seconds to process the fact that his brother was bisexual, attracted to one of his friends, and get on board. Cas was way better than any girlfriend Dean had ever had - except maybe that Rhonda girl he’d dated while Sam was in middle school. She’d been cool, too. But Cas wasn’t going to let Dean get away with his macho ‘I feel nothing’ bullshit. And as far as Sam was concerned that shot him right to the top of the pack. And unlike several of Dean’s previous conquests Sam was pretty damn sure Cas wasn’t going to give him herpes. Well, reasonably sure. The main thing was that Dean needed to be called on his crap - by someone other than Sam, of course. And Cas was definitely equipped for the job. Still, not his favorite thing to be caught in the middle their goopey-eyed staring.

“If you trip I’m too tired to catch you.” He told Dean seriously. Instead of rolling his eyes like Sam expected Dean just grinned and shoved the key into their door. As they all spilled into the apartment Sam felt the last of his energy drain out his fingertips. He needed his bed and he needed it now.

“So is that a no on the movie?” Dean guessed, kicking off his boots and tossing his jacket sort of near the coat rack. Sam was too exhausted to clean up after his man-child brother or even complain. He could deal with jackets and shoes in the morning. At least his own coat snagged the hook when he tossed it at the wall.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Said Cas, leaning down to retrieve Dean’s coat and hang it up. He nudged both brothers’ shoes into an orderly line along the wall like the saint he was before adding his own coat to the rack.

“Awesome.” Dean beamed. “Sammy? You up for some Star Trek?”

Sam paused, sniffing at the distinctly meaty fragrance in the air. He peered around Dean to find two extra-large pizza boxes spread out on the futon his brother insisted sleeping on, open and each half empty.

“What’s with the family feast meal?” He asked, his stomach suddenly growling like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Yet another reminder that he was clean, but at least a slightly less horrible one. Dean flushed guiltily and flicked the boxes closed. He started clearing them up so Cas could sit properly, shuffling a couple dirty napkins and an empty doritos bag onto the floor like the heathen he was.

He cleared his throat. “Well apparently whiskey was _not an option._ ”

Sam paused, glancing toward the fridge and the still-half-full bottle tucked atop it. Something warm and fond and proud flooded through him as he stared at his self-conscious moron of an older brother. Not an option. The sticky note had worked. It was Sam’s turn for the gooey smile, he guessed. Dean scowled back at him but suddenly a bit of the tiredness melted out of Sam’s bones.

“Had to do something to keep me from tearing the walls down.” Dean muttered.

“Next time I’ll leave you my laundry.” Sam said drily, but he could tell by the flustered twist of Dean’s mouth his own face was shining with pride. He and Dean _could_ beat this shit. Because there was no other option. “I guess we could at least make a start on Star Trek.” He said, grinning when Cas lifted an eyebrow and Dean outright crowed. “If I fall asleep in the chair _don’t_ let me sleep there all night.” He warned.

Dean slapped his shoulder and dove for the DVD player. “Deal. You ever seen Star Trek, Cas?”

Cas blinked at him. “What do you think, Dean?”

“You got a veggie pizza?” Sam felt his eyebrows crawl towards his hairline and caught another flush on Dean’s cheeks.

“Figured you might be hungry when you got home. And before you ask I did _not_ destroy a perfectly good pizza by putting olives all over it.”

“Olives are good for you.” Sam informed him, actually drooling at the smell of green peppers. He could survive a few slices without olives. Definitely.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Cause my first concern when ordering a pizza is nutritional content, Sam.”

An hour and three slices of olive-free pizza later and Sam was nearly regretting his decision. The stupid grin still plastered on Dean’s face in the flickering tv light was the only thing keeping him propped up in his armchair, his legs stretched out and aching in front of him. Cas was asleep and lightly snoring against Dean’s shoulder, having barely made it through the opening sequence and fallen asleep with a large smudge of meat-lovers pizza sauce across his chin. Sam watched him, watched Dean casually nudge him into a more comfortable position with his elbow so his neck wouldn’t have to crane so far. He didn’t even look away from the TV as he did it, like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

But then Dean never really thought about taking care of people. He just did it. He probably wouldn’t have even been able to say why if he was asked. He’d probably say something like ‘because they needed it’, or ‘someone has to’. Sam was positive Dean wouldn’t even say he was particularly good at it. He’d make some stupid joke about blind leading the blind or some other bullshit to cover the fact that he actually gave a shit about people, about making them happy. Especially Sam.

Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew why Dean was the way he was, even if his pig-headed brother refused to even acknowledge it. John. John Fucking Winchester and his revolving door parenting. Here one day, gone the next ten. Back just long enough to ride Dean about how Sammy wasn’t fed, Sammy wasn’t washed, Sammy wasn’t _happy._ As if it were Dean’s damn job to make sure his kid brother got to school and made friends and didn’t get bullied. As if Dean should have been mentally and emotionally prepared to be a parent at fucking _TEN._ Sam vividly remembered Dean sitting across a chipped formica table in some flea-bag motel making a stolen dinosaur toy talk in a funny voice to convince him to eat the hideously stale cheerios that were the only food they had left. His smile had been so bright. So false. And Sam had hated his brother for lying to him, for pretending everything was going to be ok when neither of them had any idea when John was coming back, if he did at all. And it never got better. As Sam got older and bigger and plenty capable of looking after himself John had just come down harder on Dean, like it was his fault he was letting Sam grow up.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back the wave of rage that always rose when he let himself think of John. He knew their Dad had… issues. And like Tessa said, it was no good blaming him now. It was done. All they could do was accept the past as passed and move on to a brighter future. Sam smiled. Dean hated self-help shit like that, but the truth was it did help, thinking like that. It was so easy to get caught up in the shitty memories, in the anger and pain and all the things he wanted to say to John. But that had already happened. There was nothing he could do about it now. What he could do was make sure he proved every day to Dean that they were going to be ok on their own. His time to make the dinosaur talk, he supposed.

And the fact that the bottle of whiskey was still as full as it had been when he left maybe meant Dean was ready to let him try again.

“You should head to bed.” Dean murmured, catching Sam as he drifted.

Sam smiled, “Probably. Glad I don’t have anything to do tomorrow. I could sleep for a week.”

Dean grinned. “You earned it.”

“You too.” Sam told him. Dean tried to scoff but Sam cut him off with a look. “I mean it, Dean. You stayed put, you stayed sober, and you waited for me to make my own decisions. That means a lot to me.” He knew his brother was about to squirm himself inside out but it needed saying.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Just so you know,” Sam continued, figuring he’d better bite the bullet sooner rather than later, “ _I_ left the party. Cas was having a rough time but I kinda stormed out after I caught my old dealer trying to slip him some E.”

Dean’s easy smile vanished, as did most of the blood in his face. For a second he just stared at Sam, then a weird little burble of laughter escaped as he glanced down at a sleeping Cas.

“ _Ecstasy?”_ he grinned and Sam huffed.

“Yeah, I couldn’t picture it either.” He stretched, his shoulders popping noisily. “Anyway, I’m glad he was there. It was… rougher than I thought it would be. I was serious when I said I probably won’t be going anywhere near another party any time soon. Ok?”

Dean chewed at his lip, clearly wanting to lay into him for going at all. Instead he just nodded. “Ok.” He grunted, sitting back and snaking his arm around Cas’s shoulder.

Sam blinked. “Just like that?” he asked.

Dean nodded. “Yep. You’re here, you’re sober, so am I. Everything turned out ok. And if you don’t want to go another party in the next ten years then I sure as hell am not going to be the one convincing you to reconsider.” Dean glanced over, an eyebrow raised at Sam’s dumbfounded expression. “We good?”

Sam huffed again. “We’re good, Dean.”

On the screen Kirk and Spock were arguing about something but Sam was getting too fuzzy around the edges to really follow it.

Dean started chuckling, shaking gently and drawing a little groan from Cas.

“What?” Sam asked, stifling a yawn unsuccessfully.

Dean just grinned at him. “Cas on _ecstasy._ ”

Sam snorted. “Missed opportunities.”

 

* * * *

 

“Cas, come on, buddy. Sit up a minute, would you?” Castiel groaned, shutting his eyes tighter against Dean’s voice. He was vaguely aware of the quiet, the television no longer lit up with lazers and spaceships. Sam’s warm presence was gone and the room was completely dark. Was it morning?

He tried to ask but it came out somewhere closer to “s’mormen yet?” Dean soft chuckle was enough of an answer as he nudged at him again.

“Shove over. It’s nearly three. I texted Gabriel that you’d been spending the night. But you gotta let me lay down, man.”

He’d be sleeping here? Suddenly Castiel found he was more than willing to shift. He grunted, jostled when Dean pulled the lever to let down the back of the futon, making a much wider surface for them to share. Cas didn’t remember lying down but his jeans were cutting at his hips slightly and he fumbled with his belt. Something soft hit him in the chest and he cracked his eyes open enough to see a pair of worn pyjama pants.

“Figured those would be more comfy.” Dean said, very pointedly avoiding looking at him. Castiel couldn’t have cared less if Dean watched as he slithered out of his jeans and pulled up the soft flannel pants, sighing happily as he settled back down.

“You’re right. This is much more comfortable.” He murmured, peering at Dean out of the one eye he could drag open. “Thank you.”

“Lift your head.” Dean said, shoving a pillow under it when Cas complied. Dean was already in a wrinkled t-shirt and his own set of sleep pants, a pale blue that just asked for Castiel’s fingers to curl into the fabric. As Dean sat down on the edge of the futon, just the glow of the security light filtering in from the stairwell illuminating his profile Cas reached for him.

He spread his palm flat against Dean’s back, soaking in the warmth of him. His muscled glided smoothly beneath his skin, his vertebrae sliding beneath Cas’s hand as Dean turned to look over his shoulder at him.

“What?” he asked, a tinge of amusement coloring his voice.

“Wanted to touch you.” Cas mumbled.

Dean’s laugh was just a few soft puffs of air from his nose. “Well we can do better than that, I think. C’mere.” He laid down, shuffling over until Cas’s head was pillowed on his bicep, tugged Cas’s hip so he rolled on his side and Dean could tangle their knees together. His other hand rested softly on the dip of Castiel’s waist, while Castiel’s hands curled against Dean’s chest.

“Better?” Dean asked, his nose brushing Cas’s hairline.

Cas just hummed happily in response and snuggled closer. He loved how easily Dean allowed him in. Cas’s family had not been much for physical contact, not beyond a quiet pat on the hand now and then when occasion required. Except Gabriel, of course, who liked to use physical touch to either reassure or unnerve, depending on his mood. Touch was something relatively new to Castiel, but Dean seemed to find it hard to communicate at all without it. He wouldn’t have ever said touch was something he craved, but if it were Dean’s touch he would have to reevaluate that. He was forever clapping people on the shoulder, bumping against their elbows, even ruffling Sam or Jo’s hair. Especially when the words left him in the lurch. Sometimes it seemed his brain just ran out of them, stalling mid-sentence to leave him waving his arms vaguely. When language failed him his body took over. It was a very honest part of Dean, and one that Cas admired greatly.

“Hey Cas,” Dean murmured.

“Hmm?”

“Why does your hair smell like weed?”

Cas sighed, dropping his head closer to Dean’s chest. “I went to find a bathroom at the party but when I got there it was full of smoke.”

Dean chuckled. “Somebody hot-boxed it, hu?”

“Kennedy was in there vomiting.” Castiel frowned as Dean snickered. He was still unsure if he should have done more to help the boy. “Dean,”

“Yeah?”

Quietly, Castiel recounted his little adventure with Kennedy, leaving out the part where he’d said Rigby was going to ‘cut him’. He wasn’t entirely sure Kennedy had had any idea what he was saying but he was very sure that Dean would react very poorly to that little tidbit. When he finished, Dean was quiet for a moment.

“You did good, Cas.” He said finally. “You did everything you should have. Kept yourself safe, too. That’s important too, you know. If it had been me I’d have let the kid rot.”

Despite the disgust in Dean’s voice Cas didn’t believe that for a second. “Of course you wouldn’t have, Dean.” He scoffed, giving him a stern look. “You wouldn’t allow someone to risk dying just because you don’t like them.”

Dean shrugged, bobbing Cas’s head up and down with the movement. “So other than running into those dickweasels, how did you like the party?”

Cas grunted. “It smelled terrible.” Dean laughed. “And there were so many people. It was mind-numbing.”

“Awe, poor Cas.” Dean crooned, earning himself a sharp thumb in the ribs.

“You smell lovely, Dean.” He sighed, pressing his nose into Dean’s collarbone.

Dean laughed again. “Do I?”

“Mmm. Like metal and sunlight.”

“Dude, are you sure you didn’t take anything at that party?” Dean teased. Cas nuzzled at him, pushing the collar of his t-shirt down to get to his skin. Dean sighed and tilted his head back, letting Cas sleepily mouth at his throat for a moment. “Hey, Cas?”

“Mm?”

“Thanks for keeping an eye on Sammy tonight.”

Cas pulled back far enough to see Dean’s face, frowning up at him. “I didn’t ‘keep an eye on him’, Dean. I’m his friend, not his caretaker.”

Dean kissed the top of his head, his breath spreading warm across his scalp. “Yeah well, I’m glad you’re his friend.”

“I am too, Dean.”

“Ok. It it way too late for this. Goodnight, Cas.”

Cas just snuggled closer, sinking into the warmth of Dean and the welcoming dimness of sleep.


	6. Dean Winchester's Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next are going to be fluffy as heck. I have a lot of actual plot coming up, but I figured the boys needed one more stretch to enjoy themselves before we got back into it. Enjoy and as always I’d love to hear what you think!

It took about four seconds for Dean to decide he absolutely loved waking up next to Cas. It wasn’t just the warmth of another body pressed up alongside him (which was frigging awesome) or the fact that Cas seemed to have gotten a death-grip on Dean’s t-shirt at some point in the night and refused to let up (also awesome). And it definitely wasn’t the quickly-cooling spot of drool collecting on Dean’s shoulder where Cas’s head was pillowed that made this so fantastic. All that registered in the first few fuzzy minutes as Dean surfaced from sleep. But what hit him hard and lit his face up like a goddamn christmas tree was the fact that the tangle of arms, legs, and fluffed black hair throwing off heat like a fucking furnace in his bed was _Cas_.

Dean hadn’t slept with anyone in a long time. Like, actually slept. He hadn’t fooled around with anyone either, come to think of it. And it had been ages since he’d actually cared about anyone he’d done either of those things with. Sure, he liked the girls he took to bed. He wasn’t a total sleaze ball after all. Most days. But he hadn’t been in an actual, honest-to-god relationship in years. It was way nicer waking up with someone when you didn’t have to worry about that awkward interim of having woken up with then and wondering how long ’til one of you could split. Cas wasn’t going to split. He was going to wake up, have breakfast, maybe hang out and watch some shitty weekend tv, and it was going to be anything but awkward. Well, it was Cas so maybe there would still be some awkward. Good awkward, though. Cute Cas awkward.

Damn, coffee would be good right now. Dean felt like his brain was full of scrambled eggs. Oo, eggs would be good too, actually…

Dean took a minute to push his nose into Cas’s hair, ignoring the faint lingering traces of booze and weed and soaking in the smell of Cas himself. It was a nice smell, like wind and cedar. Most people he woke up next to (most _women)_ smelled like flowers or fruit. Which was also nice, but Cas smelled like a guy. A clean, cuddly guy who whined and pushed his face further into the crook of Dean’s neck as he shifted in his sleep.

It brought to light a truly fascinating part of waking up with Cas that Dean hadn’t yet noticed: a very warm, very hard dick pushing into his side.

Holy Hell.

Despite giving the occasional good-looking dude a once-over in his lifetime, Dean had a very limited experience with other men’s junk. And definitely no experience _touching_ other men’s junk. And absolutely no experience being touched _by_ other men’s junk. It was completely bizarre to feel that blunt, hot pressure against his hip. His brain sort of fizzled for a second while the rest of his body kicked into alertness. For some reason it made his mouth start watering.

Ok. Well, this was nice and all but Cas was seventeen and even half-drunk on sleep and Cas cuddles Dean was definitely _not_ going to stick around for this. If he did, some possibly immoral and decidedly illegal shit was definitely going to happen. Another part of his anatomy was beginning to make its decidedly favorable opinion of this situation know.

He wriggled back slightly, squeaking when Cas’s hand tightened, pushing him down against the mattress and pinning him there. Damn, even asleep the kid was strong. A quick glance said Cas was definitely still asleep but he shifted restlessly, a low rumbling noise sounding in his throat. He dragged himself over, following Dean’s warmth and sliding his hand up to his neck. Clumsy fingers pushed into Dean’s hair and Cas’s breath bloomed across the bolt of his jaw. A slow, liquid roll brought Cas’s dick back against Dean’s hip. Then again.

“C-Cas?” Dean whispered, hoping he would wake up before Dean did anything he regretted. The only answer he got was another roll of Cas’s hips and a soft little “mm” sound. Shit. “Cas, man. Come on. Wake up, buddy.”

Cas’s mouth was at his ear, soft, gentle pants driving Dean straight up the wall and burning anything left of sleep right out of his head. “Dean.” Cas’s hips pushed harder into Dean’s side and dear god Dean needed to stop this right the fuck now.

“Cas.” He said, louder. Cas’s body stilled, a grunt silencing the decidedly more happy noises he’d been making into Dean’s ear. “Morning, Cas.” Dean grinned down as Cas blinked in sleepy confusion.

“Oh.” Cas growled as he took in their relative positions, his hand still buried in Dean’s hair. His voice was even rougher first thing in the morning and Dean had to smother the urge to roll him onto his back and use a couple little tricks he knew to let that voice loose. “Sorry.” Cas said, drawing back. He looked so confused, and just a little annoyed that whatever dream he’d been having had been interrupted before he could get to the good stuff. A flush crept up his face and Dean couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Not a problem, Cas.” He assured him, smiling when Cas relaxed.

“I’m sorry.” Grated Cas, rubbing at his eyes.Jesus, but that voice was _not_ helping Dean calm down. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean grinned. “I’m not uncomfortable, Cas. The second you turn eighteen I will definitely be participating in happy time dreams. For now, though, shower’s that way.” Cas tilted his head against the pillow, that confused squint still clouded with sleep.

Dean laughed and sat up, stretching until his bones cracked. Yep. Waking up next to Cas was frigging fantastic.

It happened a few times over the next two weeks as classes wound down towards winter break. With midterms and lacrosse season over and done with both Sam and Cas seemed to be just sort of coasting towards their last day. Sam was a broody little shit for a day or two after Brady’s party - even more than usual - but that knot of tension that had built up over him the past month like his own personal thunder cloud started to loosen so Dean tried not to needle him too much about it. He still had Cas over to study a few times a week, along with Jo and Alfie, and most of those nights Cas ended up crashing on the futon with Dean. And if it meant spending an extra ten minutes in the shower every morning to rid himself of the raging boners waking up with Cas glommed onto him like a frigging octopus left him with, well, Dean was willing to make that sacrifice.

Gabriel didn’t seem to mind at all, which was a relief. Having seen Gabriel’s big brother mode up close and personal Dean wasn’t exactly itching to have another demonstration. The most Gabe did was tease Dean mercilessly about cradle robbing every time he saw him. Dean figured poor Cas probably got a lot worse when he was home. Since he’d seen Cas deal with Gabriel’s shit more than once he didn’t feel too guilty about it.

Twice in the next week Dean noticed bruises, fresh scrapes on Cas’s knuckles, but when asked Cas just smiled and said he was fine. Raphael and his pack of merry inbreds were still after him, Dean guessed, but he didn’t pretend it didn’t twang a prideful little string in his heart to know that Cas didn’t need taking care of. Nope, no doubt about it - Dean Winchester’s boyfriend was one tough son of a bitch. Still, he warned the kid not to get cocky (which definitely did _not_ make him feel like Han Solo).

“I have no intention of taking my safety for granted, Dean.” Cas reassured him. Then kissed him silly.

When the last day of school rolled around Dean couldn’t help but be glad that their lives would be douche-free for a few weeks. Dean was on shift at the Roadhouse when Sam, Jo, Alfie, and Cas tumbled in out of the snow and piled into their usual table. The night of Brady’s party had marked the last snow-free day for a while, it seemed. Drifts were piling up along sidewalks and everyone’s shoes were caked in that lovely winter rim of salt. Cas’s first Kansas winter was shaping up to be a doozy. Alfie stood extra-near to Jo as she peeled off her coat, a phenomenon Dean had been noticing more and more frequently in the last couple weeks. He was pretty sure the kid was working up to making a move, finally. Would be about damn time, in Dean’s opinion.

“Hey guys.” Dean said, dropping their drinks in front of them before they could order. Cas beamed up at him, those baby blues all shiny and perfect.

“Hello, Dean.” He said, like it had been weeks instead of eight hours since they’d seen each other. Dean beamed right back.

“Oh barf.” Jo groaned. She swiped her soda and took a deep gulp.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, princess?” Dean asked, casually running his hand through Cas’s hair just to piss her off. The fact that Cas leaned into his palm like a purring cat was just sort of a bonus.

“Look,” Jo began, dropping her half-empty glass on the table. “I am super happy for both of you that you got your collective shit together and all, but watching Dean go all doe-eyed every time Cas frigging blinks is giving me heartburn.”

Dean laughed. “Cool it, sister. I can’t help it if you’re sexually frustrated. And I do not go doe-eyed.”

“Oh _please,_ Dean.” Jo threw herself back against the booth in exasperation.

“I don’t!”

Jo raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh really?” She folded her fingers together to cradle her chin, tilting her head and batting her huge eyes in a creepy parody of love-struck wonder.

“You kinda do.” Alfie mumbled into his glass.

“I’m with Jo.” Sam chipped in, but his easy smile said he was only protecting himself from the Harvelle wrath.

“Traitor.” Dean muttered.

Cas was frowning at her, his little face pinched in concern. “Jo, if we have made you uncomfortable-“

Jo sighed dramatically, dropping her head onto the table top. “Uggggh Cas, could you not be so goddamn nice all the time?”

Cas glanced at Dean, clearly puzzled. Dean just shrugged. There was no explaining Jo when she got like this. “She just wants to be pissed right now.” He offered. “Probably-“

“Dean Winchester if you say ‘women’s troubles’ so help me god they will never find your testicles.” Jo snapped. The look in her eyes and he almost believed her.

“I was gonna say ‘didn’t sleep right’.” He defended mildly. It wasn’t true but he was definitely in favor of keeping his testicles where they were.

“Sure you were.” She grumped, slumping back again. The hard little glance she shot Alfie shed a little light on her mood. Dean was pretty sure she saw him gearing up to finally doing something about the magnificently enormously obvious crush he’d had on her for the last three years or more and that she was getting impatient. Patience was not something the Harvelle women had in abundance. Dean was willing to bet that if Alfie didn’t screw up his courage soon he’d miss the boat entirely.

Poor kid.

“What’s that, Cas?” Dean asked as Cas’s phone pinged. He was wearing a strange expression as he read the screen, like he’d swallowed a golfball and was trying to decide to muscle through or hork it up.

“A text from Lucifer.” Cas muttered. “He will have to work over Christmas.”

“Oh.” Dean couldn’t say he minded not seeing that colossal douche for the holidays. Still, he was Cas’s family. “That’s… too bad?” he was aiming for sympathetic. The little smile Cas threw him said he’d missed but that the effort was appreciated.

“I was expecting as much. Christmas has always been a very busy time for his firm.”

“The devil is working Christmas.” Sam grinned.

“He says to expect presents.” Cas continued.

“No offence, Cas,” Dean chuckled, “but I think I might pass.” What on earth was Lucifer going to get the man dating his little brother? Dean was willing to bet it would be a whole lot less pleasant than a fruit basket.

“Get us our food, Winchester.” Jo demanded, snatching his pad, scribbling an order and shoving it back at him. “Before I lose my appetite completely.”

“Fat chance of that.” Dean grinned, disappearing before she could dig those skinny little fingers into the nearest bit of him.

That night Cas was sitting on the floor of Dean’s apartment, his lovely, square shoulders propped against Dean’s knees and his head lolling onto his leg when he looked up at Dean with that same concerned expression.

“Do you think we do make Jo uncomfortable?” he asked, smoothing his fingers along Dean’s ankle. Dean had already changed into his pyjamas, not even pretending he might drive Cas home later. Sam was reading in his armchair, one of Dean’s battered Vonnegauts curled back on itself in his huge hand as he ignored the cooking show Dean was pretending not to watch.

“What? No, Cas.” Dean smiled. Truth was he didn’t really care.

“Then why would she say we were?” Cas asked, all big eyes and pouty frowns. Dean’s fingers started itching. He dragged them through Cas’s already wild hair to sooth the ache in them, grinning when Cas let his head drop back to Dean’s thigh.

“I think she was just pissed off about something else, so she kinda took it out on us.” Dean explained gently.

Cas chewed thoughtfully on the corner of his mouth. “That doesn’t sound like something Jo would do.” The twin snorts from the Winchester boys said how much they agreed with him there.

“Cas, we’re all happy for you two.” Sam said, setting aside his book with a smile. “But maybe you two need to spend some time alone. Have you been on an actual date yet?”

“Sure we have.” Dean chirped. “Plenty.” They hung out all the time. Movies, meals, the occasional video game. That was dating. Wasn’t it? Ok so they’d never gone to that movie in an actual cinema he’d mentioned at the garage but that was more a symbolic movie, not an actual one.

Sam’s smile turned wry. “One that’s just the two of you, I mean. No siblings, no friends, just you two. Have you done that?”

Dean blinked at him.

“Didn’t think so.” Sam huffed, picking up his book again.

Cas tilted his head back, gazing upside down at Dean with an expression that could have been anything from pleading to indifference.

“Do- do you want to do that, Cas?” Dean asked.

Cas face split into that smile that showed too much gum and the tension Dean hadn’t even noticed in his chest released. “Yes, Dean. I would like to do that.”

Dean smiled back. “Ok. We can do that. What do you want to do?”

Cas’s smile faded a bit, concern pinching his eyebrows together. “I’m not sure. What is customary on an ‘actual date’?” Dean made a valiant effort not to crack up at Cas’s sleepy air quotes.

“Don’t worry about it, Cas.” He smirked. “I’ll take care of it.”

They decided on Monday. Dean only had a morning shift at the garage so that left them the night free for a real, honest to goodness date. Sam didn’t even have to insist Dean dress better than his usual threadbare jeans and faded flannel; by the time he emerged from Sam’s room to find his gargantuan little brother stuffing a sandwich with way too much lettuce into his face he was dressed in a pair of dark charcoal slacks (he’d nearly forgotten about them at the back of the closet) and a dusty green button down. The pants were a little tight but he knew they pulled nicely across his ass and figured Cas might appreciate the view. His hair was pushed up off his forehead in a neat swoop and he smelled damn good. He’d even shaved a second time that day. Sam wolf-whistled, spraying crumbs all over himself for the effort.

“Shut up.” Dean muttered, adjusting his cuffs. It felt ridiculous to have something clamped around his wrists like that, like he was some yuppie dick. Instead of just a regular dick. He settled for rolling them up around his elbows, hoping Cas wouldn’t mind.

Sam grinned at him. “Where did you guys decide to go?”

“None of your business, Samsquatch.” Dean growled, feeling slightly ridiculous as he ran his tongue over his newly brushed teeth. He’d gotten comfortable with Cas, sleeping next to him, working alongside him. Getting all dressed up and putting on this song and dance was dumb. Just flat out dumb. But that smile Cas had given him when Sam had suggested this whole stupid thing meant Dean was doing it, no matter how dumb he felt. In fact, he’d spent the last two days planning and replanning the evening, determined to get it right for Cas’s sake.

Sam chuckled. “Ok, Romeo. Just remember, Cas has never been on a real date, so try to make it nice.”

“Oh thanks, Sam.” Dean groused, planting his hands on his hips and glaring. “Thanks for making this so much less stressful with that super helpful reminder.”

“Sheesh.” Sam pulled his hulking shoulders up to his ears in a lame attempt to look contrite. “Sorry, man, I just meant.”

“I know what you meant.” Snapped Dean. Sam flinched and Dean took a deep breath through his nose, trying to remind himself that Sam’s smile was genuine, not a dig.

“Nervous?” Sam asked, clearly surprised.

“Of course I’m nervous.” Dean barked. Sam’s face caught between sympathy and pissy.

“Sorry, Sammy.” Dean offered, adjusting his sleeves again. “Just don’t want his first date to suck.”

“He’ll love it. He’s clearly not picky.” Sam made a sweeping gesture at his older brother.

“Har-dee-har.”

“Seriously, Dean. He’ll have a great time.” Sam assured him. “What are you so worried about?”

Dean snorted. “I can count the number of real dates I’ve had on one hand and I don’t think a single one of them could be called a ‘great time’.” Sam tilted his head back and forth with that splayed frown that said ‘you have a point there’. “Besides, none of them were with a dude.” Sam went full-on puppy face and Dean threw up his hands. “Don’t start.”

Sam just stared at him a moment, his lips practically trembling like some cartoon rabbit holding back tears. “Here, Dean, take this.” He said finally. Sam ducked into his room and emerged a minute later with a heavy, knee-length wool coat just a shade or two darker than Dean’s pants.

“What’s that?” he asked, tilting his eyebrows. Even from across the room he could tell that coat was a hell of a lot nicer than anything he owned.

“I wore it to your graduation. Ellen got it for me.” Sam explained.

Dean stepped up, pinching the material gently between his fingers. It was soft with a faint herringbone pattern woven into it. The buttons were jet black with a subtle shine. “I forgot. How come you never wear it?”

“Too small.” Said Sam with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, screw you.” Dean chuckled, letting his little brother hold the coat open for him. It settled on his shoulders with comfortable weight. He strode back into Sam’s room unable to resist taking a peek in the mirror. The fit was nearly perfect, tailored in a lovely curve at his waist and flaring out subtly towards his knees. He turned the wide collar up.

Damn. He looked fantastic.

“Eat your heart out, Sherlock.” Sam snickered from the doorway.

“That’s it.” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands up. He snatched his keys and made sure he had his wallet, heading straight for the door. Nevermind that he had been making the same comparison in his head. “I’m out. Don’t wait up.”

Sam’s call of “Have fun, Muffin!” followed him out the door.

 

* * * *

 

Cas leaned against the window-casing, staring down at the street and trying to control his breathing. He adjusted the buttons of his waistcoat for the tenth time, smoothing his fingers against his pearl-gray tie. He thought he looked presentable enough in an ivory shirt, navy vest and jacket over dark jeans. Gabriel assured him it would be appropriate for whatever Dean had decided on for their date. His new tan oxfords - nowhere near as fine as Lucifer’s Testonis - pinched at his toes a bit but he would admit they looked good with the rest of his outfit. He’d even made some effort with his hair, smoothing it up and back into something resembling order.

It was stupid, to be this caught up in anxiety just for a night out with Dean. He’d spent several nights in the man’s bed, pressed skin-to-skin with him and breathing in his scent. So why should he be so nervous? Why on earth was he practically vibrating as he waited for the rumble of Dean’s car?

He wondered where Dean would be taking him. He had no idea what activities made a proper date any different to the time they already spent with each other. Gabriel had suggested some outrageous things. Rock climbing, skydiving, pole dancing classes. While Castiel enjoyed the idea of a dance class he found it extremely difficult to imagine Dean swinging around a pole. When he did manage to picture it he immediately forced himself to stop for fear he might actually have a heart attack.

Sam had been more realistic in his predictions; dinner, a movie in a theater maybe. He’d suggested Dean might take Cas to the Spencer Museum - apparently they had an interesting exhibit of asian contemporary works on at the moment - but somehow Castiel doubted that would be something Dean would chose to do. He hoped not, at least. It sounded much more like something Sam would enjoy than either of them.

He sighed, too jittery to spend another minute staring out at the pavement. He snatched peacoat from the rack, looped his scarf around his neck and hightailed it down to Reynard’s. It would be much more pleasant to wait for Dean with a cup of coffee in his hands, even if he didn’t need the added caffeine.

It was busy but not packed and Castiel slipped behind the counter to start frothing some milk, nodding to Angela at the register.

“You look nice, Castiel.” She said, offering a customer his change and a fat croissant. “Gabriel said you had a date?”

“Thank you, and yes.” Cas tried not to blush. Gabriel’s employees all knew he was dating Dean but despite how much time he spent in the shop Castiel rarely spoke with them. They were always so busy that he tried not to interrupt them too often.

“Well make sure and order the most expensive thing on the menu.” She said with a wink, snatching a tray on her way to clear a table. As Castiel measured out the grounds Gabriel appeared, his bright orange shirt dusted with cocoa powder and a smudge of icing on his cheek. It looked like raspberry.

“Oo-hoo.” He crooned, looking Castiel up and down. “Well don’t you clean up nice.”

“You’re sure I don’t need a tie?” Cas asked.

“Nah, you’ll be fine. Besides, you’re going out with a Winchester. Odds are you’ll be bowling, not dining with the royal family of Monaco."

“I’ve never been bowling.” Cas mused, excited at the prospect.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.”

Castiel was just dusting the foam on his cappuccino with cinnamon when he spotted Dean’s car rolling to a stop across the street. Without a second thought he plopped the cup down in front of the nearest startled customer, murmured “on the house”, and disappeared out the door like a shot.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Gabriel shouted behind him.

Before Dean could climb out to say hello Castiel was flinging himself into the passenger’s seat, too excited to notice that he almost certainly should have brought gloves.

“Hello, Dean.” He breathed, not even trying to conceal a wide smile.

Dean smiled back in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. “Hey, Cas. All set?”

“Yes, Dean.” Grinned Cas. “Let’s go on a date.”


	7. An 'Actual Date'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok. All the fluff. ALL OF IT. It’s their first real date and I'm sorry but I just had to go for all-out, balls-to-the-wall CATTAIL FLUFF. If that’s not your thing well then just avert your eyes or something ’cause it’s about to get schmoopy as fuck. Sorry, not sorry.  
> So far I’m making good progress on the word count goal (this chapter makes over 11000) and thanks to everyone who has been commenting and keeping me motivated! The restaurant I described is an actual place in Lawrence, Kansas, and after reading their menu I really, really want to go there. Since I’m on a different continent, however, I sent the boys instead. Also if you’ve never read Hatchet by Gary Paulsen, please do. It’s one of my favorites and makes for a great Sunday afternoon.  
> Enjoy!  
> UPDATE: I noticed a few paragraphs I forgot to add in so I'm reposting the chapter. Sorry about that!

“Your turn, Cas.” Dean reminded him, tapping his thumb against the shoulder his arm was draped across.

“I’m aware, Dean.” Cas growled. “I’m trying to think of a good one.” The warm weight of Dean’s arm around the back of his neck was incredibly distracting as he tried to think what might make for an interesting round. Dean chuckled, drawing his thumbnail down the edge of Cas’s jaw and making it infinitely more difficult to keep his thoughts straight. It was freezing out here, the two of them splayed across the hood of the impala with their legs tangled together beneath a thick fleece blanket. Another was thrown around their shoulders where they leaned back on the windshield gazing up at the stars. They were far outside of Lawrence, in the middle of a nature preserve Dean knew, parked in a small clearing encircled by skeletal trees frosted over in the cold playing a game Dean knew.

“Well,” Dean said, “so far I know you were born in upstate New York, your favorite teacher was called Mrs. Heely and she didn’t teach you math. I know you hated living in Delaware but you liked New Jersey because you got to see cows on your ride to school, and you never learned to play cello. I know you always wanted a cat, never had a reese’s cup until you moved in with Gabriel and your favorite coffee is a Viennese, not a ristretto - whatever the hell that is. So, what else should I know about you?”

Castiel smiled. It made him glow to know that Dean wanted to learn more about him, even after they’d talked for hours over dinner. Castiel couldn’t remember talking to someone so much in one night ever. Usually he preferred to listen, but he’d done so much of that tonight, too.

“Well,” he said, trying to think of the things Dean had told him already. Places he’d been, things he and Sam had done together over the years, but the things Dean had shared that Cas liked the most were smaller, the most trivial and yet somehow the most important specks and scraps of Dean’s life. There was the little watercolor he’d stolen from one of the terrible motels he and Sam had stayed in as children because it reminded him of their mother. He’d told Cas about the first time he’d driven the impala without his father sitting in the passenger’s seat, and the one and only time he’d tried to bake a pie for himself. Dean was a good chef, but a terrible baker, it seemed, if his description of a rock hard lump of dough filled with molten jam was anything to go by. Cas wanted to hoard all these tiny, insignificant stories Dean shared with him.

“Alright.” He said, when he’d managed to think of something. “I believe I’m ready.”

“Shoot.” Dean breezed.

Cas leaned his head onto Dean’s arm, staring up at the stars. Dean was much better at telling when he was lying when he held eye contact. “Number one: when I was small there was a cupboard in the kitchen just large enough for me to fit and I used to take naps there when I was supposed to be studying for church. Number two: Mrs. Heely taught reading. Number three: when I was twelve my sister Anna took me out of school for a day to a beach in Maryland and we walked in the water. Choose.”

Cas turned to watch Dean chew on his plush lower lip, his eyes nearly black in the starlight. There was no avoiding it, Dean Winchester was a beautiful creature. Castiel had nearly choked on his tongue when they’d climbed out of the car at The Burger Stand at the Casbah and he’d caught sight of him in his long grey coat. Dean was always handsome but tonight was the first time Castiel had seen him so elegant, so neat and refined. He wasn’t wearing the rough, well-worn clothes Castiel was used to seeing him in and it was almost like looking at another person entirely. And yet beneath his neatly combed hair and scrubbed fingernails was the same man. He still had that mischievous smile, the same wicked glint in his intelligent eyes. He was still the beautiful, bright Dean Winchester Castiel knew. The contrast was fascinating.

Even more fascinating was the way Dean had looked at him tonight. When they’d stepped into the trendy restaurant and Cas had peeled off his peacoat he’d had the satisfaction of watching Dean’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open just slightly. He’d felt the warmth of it all the way through him. They’d sat together in a quiet booth and talked about everything and anything. The food had been delicious, “gourmet” burgers with blue cheese and raspberry chipotle barbecue sauce, sweet potato fries and bright coleslaw. Dean had made him swear not to tell Ellen that he’d said these burgers were almost as good as hers and gotten ketchup all over his fingers. Cas had promised and stollen Dean’s fries. And the whole time he was eating it he got to stare at Dean, watch him smile and laugh. He listened to the rhythmic rise and fall of his voice and the smooth glide of his hands as he spoke. And now they were out under the stars together playing a game where he got to sit under Dean’s arm and learn all about him.

Castiel found he liked “actual dates” quite a lot. Loved them, in fact.

“Well,” said Dean, “after trying to get you to wake up a few morning’s in a row and nearly getting punched in the face for it I’d say you definitely took secret naps as a kid.” Dean laughed. “Number three.” He declared, tilting his chin against Cas’s temple. “I’m gonna guess Anna was not the type to take you out of school for anything.”

Castiel grinned. He’d know the idea of any of his older siblings but Gabriel being any fun would trip Dean up. “Wrong.” He told him. “She even bought me my first hot dog that day.”

“Shit.” Dean sighed, but there was a smile in his voice. “Leave it to you not to have had a hot dog ’til you were twelve. Why’d she take you to the beach?”

Cas was silent, remembering the blank look on Anna’s face as she’d slid into the driver’s seat that morning. Five years later he could remember it perfectly. “It was the day after her husband proposed to her.” He told Dean. “She was supposed to take me to school but instead she drove all the way to the shore. Two hours. There was a carnival. We rode ponies, ate disgusting, greasy food. Then we found a big rock and sat up there for hours watching crabs and starfish in the tide pools. It was a lovely day. On the way home she told me never to say a word about it to Father. I never did.”

They sat silently for a moment, listening to the quiet tinkle of the wind through the icy twigs above them.

“So which was the lie?” Dean asked.

Cas grinned. “Mrs. Heely didn’t teach reading, either.”

Dean chuckled and pressed a kiss against his hair. “Well what did she teach you?”

“Music.” Cas said. “Violin. I was terrible.” Dean laughed and Cas tilted a smile up at him. “Michael used to say it was like a cat being thrown into a wood-chipper.”

They laughed, Dean’s chest juddering under his shoulder.

“Your turn, Dean.” Cas wormed his arm into the front of Dean’s coat to loop around his waist. He was warm through his shirt.

“Hmm. Alright.” Dean let his palm cover Cas’s elbow where it rested over his stomach. “Number one: I had a pair of ninja turtle pyjamas that I wore for like two years straight. Number two: I have never worn women’s underwear. Number three: I wore these pants tonight hoping you’d stare at my ass a little.”

Cas snorted. “Well I know number three is true.”

“Yeah, and I wasn’t disappointed.” Dean nudged him.

“You have stared at me tonight too.” Cas informed him.

“Oh definitely.” Dean nodded. “You can’t get all spiffed up and shiny and not expect me not to want to muss you up again.”

“Mhmm.” Cas squeezed his side and tried not to think about how much he’d enjoy letting Dean muss him up. He decided to resist the urge to kiss him - desperate though it may be - and focus on the game. “I think,” he said, “it’s very likely that if they came in adult sizes you would be wearing ninja turtle pyjamas now.” Dean’s silence and the fact that he’d talked for nearly an hour once about what made the ninja turtles so great told Castiel he was on the right track. “So I will say that the lie is number two.” Dean stayed silent. “You’ve worn women’s underwear?” Despite his guess Cas was actually surprised.

“Once.” Dean husked, rubbing at the back of his neck with his fingers. “I had a girlfriend that thought it was sexy.”

All the amusement drained out of Cas at the thought of some girl seeing Dean mostly naked. Of course he knew Dean had dated people before, many people, if Ash’s stories were to be believed, but he tried hard not to think about anyone else touching Dean, kissing him.

“Jealous?” Dean leaned back to see Cas better.

“Yes.” Cas admitted. There was no point denying it. Besides, he was fairly certain Dean actually enjoyed making him a little jealous.

Dean kissed his ear. “Your turn again.”

“Alright. Number one: I don’t like thinking of anyone else touching you. Number two: I enjoy touching you quite a lot. Number three: I don’t enjoy it when you touch me.”

Dean laughed. “Easy, three.”

“Correct. Your turn.”

“Alright.” Dean turned his head so that his lips brushed Castiel’s ear with every word. “Number one: I never kissed a guy before you, you are my first. Number two: I don’t intend on kissing anyone other than you and maybe a chaste peck on Ellen’s cheek at Christmas for a long, long time. Number three: there’s a noise you make when I bite your ear that just about makes me cum in my pants every goddamn time.” A tiny whine broke through Cas’s teeth as Dean’s teeth grazed his earlobe. “Yeah. That’s the one.” Dean growled.

Cas planted a hand on his chest, leaning back to get a good look at him. He was a little concerned about those choices, to be honest. Before he could get too wrapped up in his thoughts, however, Dean grinned.

“I cheated. Those were all true.” He said. Cas smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Come on, settle down.” Dean told him, drawing him back down against the windshield. Cas allowed himself to be drawn, letting the smug weight of satisfaction settle in his head. He wasn’t sure it would be appropriate to say but if he had his way ‘a long, long time’ would translate to ‘ever’. “It’s cute that you get all possessive but truth is, Cas, I haven’t even _thought_ of anyone else touching me since pretty much the day I met you.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “What about that girl on Halloween? She was touching you in some very inappropriate places.”

Dean’s chuckled was a little tighter than before. “Yeah, well, uhh despite her very _thorough_ attempt to seduce me it wasn’t her I was thinking of later that night, if you get my meaning.”

“Dean?” Cas whispered, reticent to break the stillness.

“Hm?”

“Thank you for this.”

He felt Dean’s smile curl against his skin. “You’re welcome, Cas. Good date?”

“Best I’ve ever had.” He deadpanned.

Dean laughed and kissed his eyebrow. “You know what? Me too.” Cas’s skepticism must have passed to Dean somehow because his laughter died down. “Really, Cas. Best date by miles.”

“I’m glad, Dean.” Cas turned his head so that his lips brushed against Dean’s collar. “In the past you’ve had more… active dates than this one?”

Dean clucked at him. “Don’t even try it, kid.” He warned. “We are having a great date and it will not include any X-rated moments. Got it?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean. I think it is much too cold out here for either of us to be exposing our genitals.” Dean made a bizarre, half-choked sound and his eyes tried to roll out of their sockets but Cas ignored him. “What I meant was, do your other dates usually end with sex?”

Dean thought a moment. “Well, I don’t really do dates that much, Cas. I go out, flirt, maybe have a few drinks and stumble home with them but I don’t do the whole dinner and a movie thing with just anyone. So no, an ‘actual date’” he parroted Castiel’s use of air-quotes, “they don’t usually end in sex for me.”

Cas just hummed.

“Come on, your turn.” Dean prompted.

Castiel smiled. “Number one: I believe Jo was angry the other day because she is getting impatient with Alfie’s inability to ask her on a date. Number two: Back home I had an enormous blue sweater I used to wear whenever I was home from October to May and it was the most comfortable thing I’ve ever owned. Number three: I have never driven a car.”

“Well number one is a given.” Dean grumbled. “I know you don’t have your license but I can’t see you not giving it at least a try. You always try. I’ll say three.”

Castiel shook his head. “Wrong. The sweater was green.”

“First of all, that’s cheating, and second you’ve _never_ driven a car?” Dean seemed almost angry at the idea of it.

Cas shrugged. “I always lived close enough to school to walk or one of my siblings would drive me. I had no need for a car as all the functions I attended at church were with my family and I didn’t have any friends.”

“Yeah, but still!” Dean exclaimed. “I mean, it’s a frigging rite of passage. I started driving when I was thirteen.”

“That’s illegal, Dean.” Cas informed him.

“Sure is. But I was a better driver at 13 than most people at 20. I mean we grew up in this car. I can’t imagine _never_ driving.” He seemed genuinely baffled.

“Well, I have been thinking over the last month or two that a license might be a valuable thing to have. Perhaps I could learn.” He didn’t have a car but he felt badly only ever getting rides from Gabriel or Dean or Jo when he needed to go somewhere.

“I’ll teach you!” Dean offered immediately.

Cas smiled at his excitement. “I’d like that. Now, your turn.”

Dean was quiet for a moment as he thought. When he spoke again his voice was softer than before. “Number one: my mom used to sing me a Rolling Stones song when I was sick. Number two: I hate canned vegetables. Number three: When Sam was seven he asked our Dad if he could buy this book called Hatchet that his friend had read. When Dad said he didn’t have the money for it I went and stole it from the local library for him. Ok. Which one was the lie?”

Castiel considered. Dean was not overly fond of vegetables in general, but it was easy to believe he was even less enthusiastic about canned vegetables if he had been forced to eat them during his childhood. It seemed likely, given the Winchester brothers had spent so much time on the road and fending for themselves. Sam had told him stories of Dean collecting coins from vending machine doors and take-a-penny trays to scrape together enough to buy them dinner on nights when their father was gone. He could easily imagine Dean stealing a book for his little brother, too.

“Number one.” He decided, pleased when Dean huffed in his ear.

“Bingo.” He mumbled. “It was a Beatles song. ‘Hey Jude’.”

“I know that one.” Castiel murmured, as surprised as Dean. “Gabriel used to sing it to me sometimes.” He explained. “He said I was always more serious than kids had any right to be.”

Dean leaned into him. “Bet you were.”

Cas wasn’t sure he should ask his next question, but the night seemed to curl around them like shadowed wings, preserving for them a small sanctum, a tranquil haven of affection and peace. “Do you remember your mother?” he whispered so quietly he was only sure he’d said it by the plume of steam that left his lips.

Dean was silent for a very long time. If not for the gentle stroke of Dean’s thumb against his cheek Cas would have felt the need to apologize, to take it back and apologize for ever trying to peer so closely into Dean’s heart.

“Yeah. I remember her.” Dean murmured finally. “I remember what she smelled like, the sound of her voice. I remember the exact color of her eyes. Ellen had this ring, she used to wear it when I was little. I hated it. It was silver with a great big stone on it. Turquoise. Same exact color as mom’s eyes. I stole it from her when I was eight, kept it under my pillow until she found it. She just about slapped the skin off of me until I told her why. She never wore it again.”

Cas sighed. “I don’t remember my mother. She died when I was nearly two. Sometimes I think there must be something, some tiny little scrap of her left in my memory, anything. Sometimes I’ll see a woman on the television and think, yes, my mother would have been like her. But it’s only wishing. I don’t remember her.” Dean squeezed his arm in sympathy. “I wish I had just… something of her.”

Dean’s lips pressed against his hairline. “It’s ok, Cas. Sammy doesn’t remember our mom, but you know what? He’s just like her. I mean, when he’s being an ass he’s just like Dad but when he’s being Sammy…” Cas let his leg press closer to Dean’s. “I bet you have scraps. I bet you have whole bunches of scraps and you don’t even know it.”

Cas sighed, wishing it were true. Castiel had never been a singer but he found himself husking out the first few lines, watching his own voice curl out on the air above them. “ _Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it better.”_

He could feel Dean’s surprise in the tightening of his hand, but after a moment he joined in, too. “ _Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start, to make it better.”_

They sat together on the hood of the impala, singing tunelessly into the chill air until the words ran out. 

They lay there for a while longer, the game played out and the silence comfortable. It was only when Cas’s feet started to go numb and he began to shiver despite their blankets and Dean’s warmth that Dean gently pushed him up and suggested they get back in the car. The drive back to town was pleasant, Dean humming along to his softly playing stereo and Cas watching the tree branches race over the windshield. That same cocoon of peace lingered about them, their hands nearly touching on the seat between them. It would have been so easy for Castiel to reach out and weave their fingers together but he didn’t, too afraid to crack the fragile mood.

In all too short a time they were parked back in front of Reynard’s, staring up at the darkened windows of Gabriel’s apartment and both of them reluctant to move any further.

“Dean,” Cas said, clearing his throat as his voice threatened to crack. “I’m aware from some of the movies we’ve watched what the the implication of this question usually is, but please don’t assume I mean anything other than what I say.” He waited, searching Dean’s face until he received a nod in response. “Would you like to come upstairs?” Dean blinked at him, his tongue darting out to swipe across his lip. Castiel sighed. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He complained. Of course he wanted to kiss Dean and touch him, and eventually engage in sexual activity with him - he’d made no secret of that fact at any time in their relationship - but that wasn’t what he was asking for now. Dean had limits beyond which he was not comfortable going and Cas respected them, respected him. “I didn’t mean-“

Dean grinned and leaned in to steal a kiss, cutting him off. “Still like hearing you say it, though.” He said. The next few moments were lost to the soft press of Dean’s mouth, the hot swipe of his tongue. Cas twisted in his seat so that he could lean closer, wrap his fingers around the wide lapel of Dean’s coat and drag him in.

“Gabriel’s not home.” Cas murmured when they broke apart for air. “He had a date himself.” Dean chewed at the corner of his mouth, clearly torn. Castiel smiled. “I promise I won’t tease you. Not tonight.” Dean raised a sarcastic eyebrow but Cas crossed his heart with two quick slashes of his finger. “I promise, Dean. Just… this has been so nice, just having this time together. Without anyone else. Sam was right. It is different.”

“Yeah, it is.” Dean breathed.

“And I…” Cas swallowed. The words were getting caught at the back of his tongue for some reason. “I’m not sure I’m ready for it to be over yet.”

Dean slipped his hand over Cas’s where it rested on the seat and gave it a little squeeze. “Ok.” He said. “Yeah, ok.”


	8. About Damn Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Obviously my writing challenge was a complete failure (well, I managed over 13k but definitely not 50k) so I apologize for the long wait. Real life has been hounding me pretty hard these last few months and with another fic also running I haven’t been able to spend as much time on this piece as I’d have liked. Ficmas will not line up with Christmas as I’d hoped but I’ll try to get a few more chapters out before my vacation is over. Enjoy!!

“Cas, if you get the butter and heavy cream I can get the potatoes, carrots, and onions.” Jo said, scanning the shopping list Ellen had scribbled on an order ticket. A wire basket hung from her elbow and Cas and Sam each held one of their own. “Sam that means you’re finding sausage, two cans of cream of mushroom soup, and whatever this is supposed to say.” She turned the ticket to him and he squinted at aparticularly messy scribble.

“That’s either chicken stock or cheddar sticks.” He said, tilting his head as if hoping that would unscramble Ellen’s cramped handwriting.

“Chicken stock seems more likely.” Cas told him. He wasn’t sure they made cheddar sticks. Perhaps she meant a large block of cheese she could cut into stick shapes?

Sam smiled at him. “Yeah, probably chicken stock, Cas.”

“The sign says soups are over there.” Jo said, pointing.

“Alright, team.” Sam clapped his large hands together. “Meet at the registers?”

“And, break!” Jo called, spinning and trotting off into the rows of vegetables. 

“Dairy that way.” Sam said, waving towards the back of the store.

Cas nodded and headed off as Sam walked down the main front aisle. Ellen had sent them out to pick up supplies for the dinner she was preparing for Christmas Eve next week. Like Thanksgiving, it was a day the Winchester, Harvelles, Bobby and Gabriel had spent together for the past several years. They traded humorous secret santa presents - a concept that was entirely new to Castiel - and Ellen cooked, though Gabriel still provided the dessert. Cas was glad for the chance to spend a holiday with everyone again without Lucifer. As wonderful as Thanksgiving had been, the level of tension his older brother had brought with him was something Castiel could gladly spend Christmas without.

He reached the refrigerated cases that lined the back wall of the store and began slowly trailing down the line. He had located the cream and was reading the labels on the butter. There were at least a half dozen brands, each with several different labels Cas didn’t understand the significance of. Was “creamiest” better than “even smoother”?

“Dude, I think you need to get help.”

“Pardon?” Cas turned to find himself staring into a pair of enormous brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

“For your butter kink.” She said. When he only tilted his head at her she laughed, a pretty, dusky sort of laugh that tossed her long brown hair over her shoulders.

Hoping she was making some kind of joke he turned back to the case. “I had no idea there were so many kinds. I’m really not sure what kind she wants.”

The girl laughed again. “Right. Sent on an errand.” She said, stepping a little closer to him. Her hair smelled of cinnamon. “Well if I were you I’d grab a couple different kinds and that way if you get the wrong one at least she can’t blame you for not trying.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He opened the case and carefully selected two different brands, one salted and one unsalted of each.

The girl nodded at him. “Happy trails, cowboy.” She said, nudging him aside with her hip to grab a carton of skim milk.

He nodded his thanks and moved on, finding the heavy cream and turning to the registers. Jo was already there with her own basket, sorting through the candy bars piled near the registers. She looked up when he stopped beside her, shrugging at his unasked question.

“I consider it a tax for running her errands.” She explained, dropping three candy bars into her basket. She peered into his, smirking when she saw what he’d collected. “Oh I have no idea which of those is right. Alright, there’s Sam. Wave him over and let’s get the hell out of here before she texts me with whatever she forgot.”

 

* * * *

 

“How the fuck…” Dean whined, twisting the scissors in his hand. His crumpled scrap of paper looked more like a slice of swiss cheese than the delicate, airy snowflakes Cas was turning out by the dozen. They were all different sizes and he never repeated the same design, making each one as unique as an actual snowflake. Dean glanced at his own pitiful pile of five mangled attempts and sighed. He straight-up sucked at this.

“You need to create more negative space.” Cas explained for the hundredth time in that same patient monotone. “Cut out more than you leave.” He pivoted the scissors around in a tight spiral, sending shreds of paper floating across the table. A few quick turns of his wrist and he unfolded a freaking masterpiece of graceful curves and swirly bits. It was like a Dr. Seuss illustration. He casually added it to his pile and picked up another sheet of paper. Sam had a pile nearly as big of complicated geometric patterns he’d turned out like it was nothing.

“How are _you_ good at this?” Dean demanded.

Sam shrugged as he casually snipped a weird honeycomb pattern into his latest creation. “I looked up patterns on my phone. It’s not rocket science, Dean.”

Dean snorted. “Nerd.”

“Jerk.” Sam returned, not looking up from his work.

Dean chucked his scissors on the table and flopped back in his chair. “Bitch.”

“Not to interrupt this scintillating academic debate,” Gabriel said, slapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “but how are my little elves getting on over here?”

It was a slow afternoon at Reynard’s three days before Christmas and Gabriel was taking advantage of the lull to bulk up his already over-the-top decorations. He’d hung thick braids of gold and red rope from the ceiling, draping them so it kind of looked like the whole room was a giant tent. There were real pine boughs over all the windows and doors and red velvet curtains that hit the floor. Gold and silver bells that chirped like a flock of starlings every time the door opened hung down from clouds of fairy lights over every table. Raw silk tablecloths of dark green threw the light back up in a soft glow. Some of the chairs were draped in cozy-looking blankets in bright plaids and soft grays and the centerpieces were chunks of driftwood with squat candles half-melted over them. Baskets of pinecones and tiny christmas trees were everywhere, and one of the front windows was entirely blocked by a big fat fur tree dripping in red and gold. There were about a million lights on the damn thing and a gold star the size of Dean’s head.

“Where are you even going to put all these?” Dean demanded, shoving his pathetic work at the baker.

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow. “Well _these_ I’m going to put in the recycling bin. Did you do this with your teeth or something?” He poked his finger through one of the jagged holes and wiggled it at Dean.

“Oh, so that’s the thanks I get for trying to help.” Dean threw his hands up.

“Trying don’t caramelize the creme brulé, bud.” Gabriel told him as he crumpled all Dean’s hard work between his hands and chucked it at the counter. “As for the rest of them I’m going to get some clear twine and make a snowstorm over the register.” Gabe took Sam’s stack of snowflakes and carried them over to the counter to start attaching different lengths of twine. Dean definitely did not pout. He scowled in a very manly, mature, adult way as Gabe climbed up on the counter to start hanging them. Stupid snowflakes.

“Shouldn’t you get going anyway?” asked Sam. “You’re going to be late.” He was already folding another paper in crisp, straight lines. Just because he could, Dean reached over and snatched it, crumpling it into a ball and beaning Sam in the nose.

As it bounced off the table and onto the floor Sam gave one of his long-suffering, nobody-knows-the-troubles-I’ve-seen sighs and flicked his hair out of his face. “Real mature, Dean.” He pulled a fresh sheet of paper from the stack and Dean snatched that one too. As it bounced off Sam’s forehead Gabriel turned. 

“Winchester!” he snapped. “Stop wasting my office supplies!”

“Get a step ladder before you break something.” Dean grumbled and leaned back, crossing his arms again.

Cas patted his knee kindly. “An inability to make paper snowflakes is very unlikely to have a lasting effect on your life, Dean.” He placated.

Dean shoved his hand away. “Easy for you to say. Freaking Michelangelo of paper snowflakes.” He muttered, picking up one of Cas’s and peering through the center at him. Cas just smiled that soft little smile of his that made Dean’s toes curl.

Sam was about to make a comment - no doubt scathing - when the bell chimed as the front door swung open and let in a blast of cold air. Paper snowflakes fluttered to the floor in all directions and Dean grinned in victory.

“Hiya, Alfie. Good timing.” Dean grinned at the weedy kid as he stomped the snow from his scuffed boots.

“Hi.” Alfie grunted, looking for once like he actually had something other than his general fear of everything on his mind. Apparently Dean wasn’t the only one that noticed.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked immediately, half standing as if ready to leap to his friend’s defence. Sam looked up, too, his scissors pausing in their careful track.

Alfie looked between the two of them, then sighed and dropped into the last chair at their table. “Nothing.” He muttered, throwing one long-fingered hand over his eyes. There was an actual note of annoyance in his voice and Dean raised his eyebrows.

Before anyone could pursue it further the door banged open again and Jo tramped in wearing one of her darkest scowls. She glared at Alfie, her little mouth pinched in anger and pointedly marched to an empty table near the window. She dropped vengefully into a seat, slamming her bag down on the table and turning so her back was facing them.

“Ouch.” Sam winced, casting Alfie a sympathetic look.

“I don’t know what she’s so pissed about.” Alfie sighed. “I just said she should go see that stupid movie she’s been talking about for like two weeks now.”

Dean and Sam shared a look but it was Cas that spoke up.

“I think she is frustrated that you would suggest she go alone rather than invite her to go with you.” He said, calmly folding a new sheet of paper. Alfie just about choked on his tongue. Dean laughed and slapped him companionably on the back.

“Seriously, dude.” He murmured. “I know you’re scared shitless she’ll say no, but she’s about three days more waiting away from slicing your nuts off.”

“But I, I don’t-“

“Alfie, we all know how you feel about her.” Sam said gently.

“Including Jo.” Cas agreed. “She’s been waiting for you to ask her out for several weeks at least.”

“And she’s probably talking about the movie so much because she’s trying to drop a not-so-subtle hint.” Sam explained.

Alfie stared at them, his already pale face draining.

“Seriously, kid.” Dean said, leaning back to clasp his hands over the back of his head. “Harvelles don’t really have a good handle on patience. You wait much longer and she might actually be pissed off enough to say no.”

Alfie looked so Sam and got a warm nod. Cas smiled at him. The kid swallowed, his hand trembling on the the arms of his chair. He blinked hard twice, then shot up like his seat was electrified. His adam’s apple bobbed crazily and then he was off across the floor. Jo looked up as he came to a halt beside her. He was too far away for them to hear whatever he was managing to mutter but from the way Jo’s shoulders relaxed and her foot began to bounce it seemed he was getting right down to it. From where he was Dean could only see Alfie’s profile, but the kid’s ears were beet red. About three sentences into whatever he was saying Jo stood up and punched him in the arm. Hard.

“About damn time!” she practically shouted.

“Here here.” Murmured Cas, drawing a laugh from Sam and Dean. Alfie swayed a bit unsteadily but Jo took his hand and dragged him back to their table. She gently pushed him back down into his seat and he watched with a stunned gape as she dragged a free chair over and placed in right next to his. When she planted her butt in the seat she looked up at him expectantly. He just goggled at her. With a dramatic sigh and a big eye-roll she gripped his wrist and slung his arm around her waist, slapping the back of his hand firmly to press his palm over her hip.

He gulped audibly.

“Something funny?” Jo switched on her death glare when Dean started to snigger but he was spared her wrath when the bell chimed again.

“Delivery for G. Novak?” Dean swivelled around to see a UPS guy wheeling a giant box on a dolly through the door. Gabe jumped down from the counter and brushed a few stray scraps of paper from his sleeves.

“What’s this?” he asked, taking the clipboard the delivery guy offered. The guy just shrugged and wheeled it further inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.

“Is that the new standing mixer?” Cas asked, craning his neck to see. He actually seemed excited about the idea of a giant new mixer and Dean couldn’t help thinking it was freaking adorable. He took advantage of everyone’s distraction to squeeze Cas’s thigh suggestively. He grinned when Cas blinked at him in surprise.

Gabriel laughed, looking at the shipping label as he signed for the enormous package. “Nope. It’s from Kempfer Bishop Limited, care of L. Novak. I would guess these are our Christmas presents.”

“Dude,” Dean exclaimed, glancing at Sam to find his eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “What did he get you, a freaking car?”

“That box couldn’t fit a car, Dean.” Cas said seriously. “Unless it was a child’s toy car.”

“Wouldn’t put it past Lucy to send us something along those lines.” Gabe said, waving his arm towards the counter where he wanted the box. The delivery guy nodded, wedging it in behind the last little table and the back wall.

“Happy Holidays.” He said, saluting with his clipboard before disappearing back into the cold.

“Well, crack it open!” Dean said.

Already ahead of him, Gabriel snatched a butter knife from behind the counter and slashed open the packing tape. Sure enough there were presents inside, with swanky white paper and gold ribbons. Gabe lifted them out one by one, reading labels and grinning to himself as he stacked them on the counter.

“Aren’t you going to open them?” Jo asked.

“Two problems with that.” Gabriel said, pulling out a pair of tiny boxes and dropping them on the pile. “One, most of them aren’t for me.”

“Are those all for Cas?” Alfie guessed. There were already a half-dozen on the counter and Dean could see a bunch of bigger ones in the box.

“Nope. Apparently Lucy wanted to spread the Christmas cheer like buckshot. Everyone’s got something. Even you, Alfie.” Gabriel wiggled a small flat box at him.

“Me?” Alfie blinked, still staring at Jo. Apparently the shock of Lucifer thinking to send him a present was not quite enough to break through the shock of having a date with Jo Harvelle.

“What’s the second problem?” Dean asked, really wanting to watch Cas tear into the undoubtedly extravagant gifts from his dickhead brother.

“That you need to get out of here.” Gabriel said, lifting out another present. This one was practically the size of the little guy’s torso and had about a thousand loops on the bow and some crinkly tinsel stuff tied in. “I am not about to have Ellen calling me trying to track your ass down because you can’t make your shift on time.”

Dean checked the clock over the counter and startled. Shit. He was going to have to floor it to get to the Roadhouse on time. “Right.” He said, jumping to his feet. “Looks like you and Sam will have to finish these off without me.”

“How shall we ever manage?” Cas drawled.

Dean laughed and leaned over to kiss his temple. Sam made the requisite “gross, Dean” face but smiled when Cas ran a fond hand over the back of Dean’s head. “You kids have fun.” He said, winking at Alfie. The kid was at least recovered enough to blush. Dean was pretty sure Jo was gonna eat the poor kid alive, but he was damn sure the kid would enjoy the hell out of it.

He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, swung his arms through it and with a nod to Cas hightailed it out of there.

 

* * * *

 

“Thanks, Mr. Novak. You’re a lifesaver.” Panted Norah as she dropped a tenth box of rolls onto the counter. A wisp of her dyed blond hair had fallen across her cheek but she swept it behind her ear with a business-like flick. They were in the back of the kitchen at _Food First_ , the largest of the few soup kitchens to be found in Lawrence. The stainless steel appliances were dented and scuffed but exceptionally clean, stacks of cans, jars, and boxes of food neatly filling every shelf.

“No big deal.” Gabriel said, waving off her thanks. “Gave one of my bakers a chance to practice. He’s a wonder with sugar but give the kid a pot of yeast and he disintegrates.”

It was true, Castiel knew. Curtis was not very good with bread products. His attempts at croissants usually came out tiny, rocklike, with raw centers, and he found it best not to even mention the challah incident. So when Norah had called Reynard’s to ask if they might help her shore up her stock when her supplier had screwed up the order for Christmas Eve, Gabriel had taken the opportunity to whip Curtis into shape. Twelve dozen yeast rolls later Gabriel was at least confident his assistant had one bread recipe down. Castiel counted again just to make sure they hadn’t forgotten a batch.

“We should be pretty crowded this year.” Norah explained. “I’d have had to stretch things pretty thin without the help.”

“Do you need any extra personnel over the holiday?” Gabriel asked, stretching until his back popped.

Norah quirked an eyebrow at him. “You volunteering Mr. Novak?”

Gabriel laughed. “Not quite. My little brother here is a real goodie two-shoes.” He clapped Castiel on the back. “Been missing all his good works he used to do back on the east coast. If you need an extra pair of hands I’m sure he’d be glad to sign up.”

“I would.” Cas agreed. He missed the serenity of this sort of work, serving up hot plates to cold hands and getting warm smiles in return. This would be the first Christmas in as long as he could remember that he wasn’t volunteering with a church group of one type or another.

Norah shrugged at him. “Christmas we are usually full up on volunteers. You’d think we would be empty but people tend to think about those less fortunate than they are at Christmas time. If you’re free on New Year’s Eve, though, we are almost always hurting for help.”

Gabriel twitched his eyebrows at him. “You got plans?” he asked.

“Only a movie marathon.” Cas told him. “Dean and Jo will both be helping in the Roadhouse. Perhaps Sam and Alfie will want to come along.” He knew Sam was looking to add more volunteer work to his college applications, and thought they both might enjoy spending the day together with him here.

“Fantastic!” Norah chirped, producing a card. “Here’s the website. Just register with the volunteer form on there and we’re good to go. There’s a twenty minute orientation on your first shift so you’ll probably want to do that the day before.” Castiel thanked her and slipped the card into his pocket.

“Alright.” Gabriel said, offering his hand. Norah shook it firmly. “You think about what I said about my day-olds. If you have someone to swing by and pick them up you’re more than welcome to them.” Castiel hid a smile, recognizing Gabriel’s underhanded charity for what it was. If Norah agreed to “salvaging” his leftover bakery goods Castiel would guess the number of unsold items at Reynard's every night would suddenly and mysteriously triple.

“I’ll think it over.” Norah said. She patted the top box of rolls. “And we’ll see how these go down. For all I know your stuff is terrible.” Gabriel laughed. “Come on, Mr. Novak, and I’ll get you a receipt for the donation.”

Gabriel tossed Castiel the keys and followed Norah out. Cas turned to the door but as he reached to open it it flew open and nearly whacked him in the face. He stepped back, startled, as a girl pushed in trailing a cloud of snow. She stomped her feet, knocking the door closed with one hip before she looked up.

“Christ!” she swore, jumping back. Her red hat nearly slipped off her head but she caught it, trapping it against her snow-dusted hair.

“You’re the girl from the grocery store.” Castiel observed, recognizing her large eyes.

“Oh yeah. Butter guy.” She said, smiling in a way that didn’t reach her eyes. “You stalking me now or something?”

Castiel blinked. She looked less than concerned at the prospect, but kept her purse close to her side. “I’m delivering bread.” He explained, motioning to the stack of boxes.

She glanced over his shoulder, here eyebrows shooting up. “No wonder you needed so much butter.” She laughed.

Castiel was fairly sure she was joking. “Do you volunteer here?”

She pursed her lips, something complicated flashing in her face. “Well I don’t come here for the food.” She said at last.

“I see.” He shifted his weight, unsure where else this conversation could go.

“You… gonna move out of my way?” she asked, biting her lip as if actually worried he might stand there forever.

“Of course.” He said, stepping aside so she could move further into the kitchen.

“Thanks, cowboy.” She said, touching her fingers to her eyebrow in a mock salute.

“You called me that before.” He observed, “Why?”

She blinked at him and he realized that for the first time in a long time he had made a stranger uncomfortable. It felt oddly comforting, familiar. It made him smile. She blinked harder, stepping back from him.

“You really are a creeper, you know that, right?” she said, unbuttoning her coat. She wore slim black jeans and a tank top with a geometric skull. It was oddly pretty.

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that.” Cas nodded and she laughed again.

“Yeah well, I gotta go take a piss and check in. So… see you around.” She waved and disappeared through a little side door. Just as it swung closed Gabriel appeared from the office.

“What are you still doing in here?” he asked. “Stealing food from a soup kitchen, Cassie? That’s low.”

“I met one of the other volunteers.” Cas explained, his eyes still on the door where she had disappeared. He had the strangest feeling about her, a little weight in his stomach that he couldn’t place. “I was talking with her.”

“Oh yeah?” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows salaciously. “Should I tell Deano he’s got some competition?”

Castiel rolled his eyes as they fell into step towards the door. “If you do I’ll tell him you’re handing out ‘day olds’ to anyone who asks for them.”

Gabriel stopped dead, his eyes sparking gleefully. “You wouldn’t.” He hissed, seeming almost proud that his baby brother was blackmailing him. Cas just shrugged.

“I would suggest you up your production of maple pecan pies.” he offered, stepping out into the frigid air. “It’s his favorite.”

 


	9. The Devil Sniggers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little one I needed to get out of the way before I can get on to more serious business. I promise more plotty-plot is coming! Chapter title is from the French Proverb: If you give a gift to a rich man, the devil sniggers. Enjoy!

As Cas dragged his fingers over the back of Dean’s head, Dean couldn’t contain a groan. He was almost painfully full, the scent of woodsmoke from Ellen’s small fireplace filling his head as he slowly melted into the rug. The TV was on low, Home Alone providing a familiar cheerful background. Cas was sitting on the couch behind him, his warm shins pressed to Dean’s back and propping him up. Gabriel was sprawled like some hedonistic god across the rest of the couch, one leg cocked up over the back and his head and one arm dangling over the arm. Jo and Alfie were wedged into the same armchair, Sam sprawled in another, and Ellen and Bobby sitting side-by-side in a pair of chairs Dean had dragged in from the dining room when they all got so full they decided to leave the table before someone asphyxiated themselves by falling face-first into Ellen’s mashed potatoes. 

“Ellen, I think I’m gonna die.” Dean complained, rubbing his protruding stomach with one hand. He’d had about four helpings of everything (except the creamed onions which nobody but Bobby ever ate because _gross_ ) and just when he’d thought his belly button was about to pop out like a champagne cork Gabriel had brought out not one, but _three_ different desserts. And of course Dean had had to sample all of them. Just for quality control, and all.

“Stop eating, then.” Sam suggested with a pointed look at the half of a chocolate chip cookie dangling from his brother’s fingers.

“No way.” Dean said, vengefully stuffing the rest of it into his mouth. Goddamn it was good. Not as good as the apple pie but better than the lemon bars and definitely good enough to justify the feeling that he might vomit if he breathed too deeply.

Sammy was loose and pliant, full and glowing with contentment, and it was sort of occurring to Dean that this was probably shaping up to be the best Christmas the Winchester boys had had in years. Maybe ever.

Cas’s hand had slowed to a stop. Dean tilted his head, pressing back into Cas’s palm again in a not-so-subtle hint that Cas keep up the head massage thing. It felt awesome.

“Is it gift time, then? Before Dean dies?” Gabriel suggested, bouncing his leg on the couch. All eyes turned to the innocuous stack of presents on Ellen’s coffee table. Apparently Gabriel had decided that Lucifer’s gifts should be opened while they were all together, and brought them along to Christmas eve. They’d done the secret santa thing before dinner, laughing at Ellen’s new naked lady apron and Sam’s hair curlers (Dean was weirdly proud of Alfie for daring to actually make fun of Sam’s stupid hair). Cas’s present to Bobby had been a little weird but the kid was new at gag gifts. He’d gotten the old man a wrench, explaining that it was funny because obviously Bobby already owned several dozen much better quality tools. Cas’s earnest explanation had been funnier than the damn present.

It had been a unanimous and unspoken decision to leave Lucifer’s until after they were full and happy, when it would be harder to put a damper on the mood. Nobody was sure if the gifts would be sincere or jokey, good or really, really bad.

“I think if we wait any longer we’ll all be comatose.” Sam sighed. Gabriel hopped up, belched loudly, and grabbed the first present. It was a narrow box and after reading the neatly engraved label Gabriel walked it over to Sam.

“Then you get the honor of starting us off, Samsung.” He said, handing it over. Sam stared at it a moment, twisting his mouth as if contemplating what horrors it might contain.

“Well, here we go.” He said, and slid off the silky ribbon. In typical Sam fashion he slit the tape at the seams and unfolded the paper. Dean knew Sam secretly hated opening presents this way, but he hated it just slightly less than he loved how much it annoyed the bejeezus out of Dean. A black box about the length of his hand was revealed and Sam carefully shimmied off the lid. Dean craned his neck to see a slim flash of something resting in a velvety cushion.

“A pen?” he asked.

Gabriel let out a low whistle. “That’s a Montblanc.” He said, his eyebrows high.

“A what?” Sam asked.

“You see that mother of pearl on the cap? That’s the Montblanc emblem.” Gabriel picked it up, carefully cradling it as if it were a sparrow’s egg. “Guilloché engraving, oyster lacquer, red gold clip and-“ he slid the cap off revealing a dangerously sharp point, “rose gold, hand-carved nib.” The arrow-head nib was covered in delicate scrollwork. An ornate “S” was styled into the gleaming metal. “Custom.” Gabriel added. He slid the cap back on and replaced it in the box. “You take care of that Sammy, I’d say you’re looking at a two thousand dollar pen, there.”

“Two thousand bucks for a pen?” Dean goggled.

“I prefer Parkers.” Gabe sniffed as Sam stared wide-eyed at his present. “But Lucy’s always been more prone to ostentation.”

“Says the man with an orange velvet sofa.” Jo said, trailing her and over the offending fabric.

“Father gave Lucifer a similar one when he was accepted to law school.” Cas informed them all. They all stared at the pen for another minute. What the hell was this supposed to mean? Dean was not super thrilled to find out Lucifer was giving Sam important milestone father gifts.

“Ok.” Sam said, carefully setting his box back on the coffee table. “One down and I still have all my fingers. Who’s next.”

“Oh just give me the damn box.” Bobby growled. He’d slicked what was left of his hair back and he looked a little like a bearded turtle. He snatched a little box from the table and tore the paper off. Inside was a slim, dark book that looked like it was bound in real leather.

“Well?” Jo asked, “Is that Japanese?”

“ _Wagahai Wa Neko De Aru_ by Natsume Sōseki.” Bobby nodded, running his hand over the cover. “Special hand-printed edition. How the hell did he know I speak Japanese?”

“I didn’t know you spoke Japanese!” Dean exclaimed.

“Exactly.” Bobby nodded.

“God. Lucy’s such a prick.” Gabe sighed and handed a present to Ellen. Hers turned out to be an exceptionally expensive bottle of rare wine, while Jo got a pair of Italian leather boots. They fit her perfectly and Dean chose not to think about how creepy it was that the guy had her shoe size. Alfie got a brand new set of head-to-toe fencing gear he was too afraid to even touch.

“Why would he do this?” the poor kid breathed, his hands shaking as he stroked the plastron - Cas had to tell Dean what the weird chest piece was called.

“Because,” Gabriel huffed, “he doesn’t just have to be a part of other people’s lives, he’s got to be the _best_ part of other people’s lives. He has a competitive streak about eighty lanes wide.”

“Your turn.” Sam said, nudging the presents addressed to Dean. There were two boxes, one small and almost cubical, the other huge and flat. He went for the little one first, not really trusting either not to be something nasty. Sure enough as he stripped the ribbon and pried the lid off he felt his face go flat.

“ _To entertain yourself on those long days in the junkyard_.” He read aloud, lifting out the elegantly engraved card. Beneath it was a plain, well-chewed tennis ball, bits of fuzz sticking up off it in spit-hardened chunks. The room was completely silent for two seconds, until Gabriel burst out laughing.

“Lucy you ASS!” he crowed.

“I don’t get it.” Alfie whispered, warily watching Dean’s stony face.

Jo snickered. “I’ll explain later.”

“Well, we knew he was going to be unpleasant somehow. At least this is harmless. Open the other.” Cas said, and Dean was almost sure he was trying to hide a smile of his own. Grumbling, he tossed the smaller box aside, ignoring the tennis ball as it rolled away under the couch. The second box was huge, nearly three feet long and wrapped in the same smooth cream paper. The gold ribbon was tied in an intricate bow, too many loops and knots for Dean to even begin to unravel, so he just shimmied it off one corner and let it fall away. It was too unwieldy for him to try and open in his hands so he laid it down on the carpet to lift the top off.

“Clothes?” he balked, shifting the tissue paper off something large and dark inside. He lifted it out and Gabe let out another soft whistle. It was a coat, long, soft, and so dark blue that it was almost black. Carved steel buttons blazed in two neat rows beneath a wide lapel.

“Belstaff or Balmain?” Gabriel asked.

“Balmain.” Dean answered, peering at the subtle label.

Gabriel nodded. “Another of Lucy’s favorites. It’ll be a cashmere and wool blend. Those buttons aren’t standard, either. Not this season. Custom.” Dean snorted. Who the fuck had custom buttons? Well now he did, apparently.

“Try it on, Dean!” Ellen urged. Dean struggled to his feet still feeling vaguely sick. He swung the coat around his shoulders, letting it settle on him and barely even surprised that it fit like a dream. He did up a few buttons, slipped his fingers into the pockets and generally felt like a kid playing dress up.

“Well?” he asked, spreading his arms in a lame request for feedback.

“It’s very handsome.” Ellen smiled. Jo’s eyebrows were about to pop off the top of her head and Alfie’s eyes were wistful.

“Not bad for a junkyard dog.” Gabriel agreed. Dean smoothed his hands over the front of it, squinting at Sam and getting a thumb’s up in response.

“Cas? What do you think?” It was his stupid brother that sent it, after all.

Cas was staring, his cheeks flushed and his eyes enormous. “I, uhm. It’s very nice, Dean.” He stammered, curling his legs up onto the sofa. Dean grinned, recognizing all the classic signs of his boyfriend having inappropriate thoughts.

“Keep it in your pants, kid.” He warned, earning a pillow chucked at his head.

Gabe chuckled, perching on the arm of Sam’s chair. “Seems Lucifer actually likes you guys. These are some pretty spiffy gifts.”

“Cas’s turn!” Jo cried, pointing to a large box. Cas turned out to be all for efficiency and much to Dean’s amusement shredded his paper with brutal speed.

“Oh.” Cas breathed, a soft smile on his face.

“Goddamnit, Lucy.” Gabriel sighed, peering at Mac logo on the crisp white box. “Gotta show me up with a frigging laptop.” Dean grinned, knowing Cas had been hoping to save up to buy himself a laptop.

“Hey, now you’ll have more pocket money for fun stuff.” Dean told him. “You know, hookers, skydiving lessons. That kind of thing.”

He expected an eye roll but Cas was busy reading a little note stuck to the box. He opened the top and pulled out a blueish slip.

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

“A check.” Cas explained, a soft smile in his eyes. “And a note.”

“Which _says?_ ” Gabriel demanded.

“‘I take your boyfriend to dinner. Love, your brother Lucifer.’”

“Woah.” Dean breathed. Lucifer was paying for his little brother to take his _boyfriend_ on a date. That was a big step for him, a big gesture that pretty much screamed ‘I’m ok with you being gay’. Maybe it was turning out to be a great Christmas for the Novak boys, too.

Gabriel snorted. “Lucy’s such a sap.” He accused. 

“And what did the sap get for his darling little brother Gabriel?” Ellen asked, passing Gabe a small square parcel.

“‘For the improvement of your bakery’. Hmph.” Gabriel snorted, tearing savagely at the pretty white paper and chucking the label away. “Probably bought me a bank or the deed to a diamond mine, knowing him. He thinks money is more important than god-given talent.”

“If that is the deed to a diamond mine,” said Jo, “no offence Alfie, but I’m marrying him.”

Alfie looked at her a moment, then shrugged. “If that’s a deed to a diamond mine you’ll have to get in line, sister.” He told her.

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up when the box opened to reveal nothing more grand than a slim book. All Dean could make out were slashes of bright color and a small cartoon bird fluttering across the back.

“Oh my god.” Sam breathed, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep from cracking up. His shoulders shook and he nearly doubled over as Gabriel just kept staring.

“That son of a bitch.” The baker finally breathed, turning the book around to reveal the title.

“The Disney Princess Cookbook.” Cas read, taking it to read the description from the back. “From Rapunzel's Frying Pan Eggs to Ariel's Sea Turtle Cupcakes, this beautifully illustrated cookbook is filled with delicious baking ideas inspired by the Princesses' many adventures. Easy to follow pictures make it simpler than ever for young chefs to blossom. Your little princess will love following along these simple, fun recipes.”

“That son of a BITCH!” Gabriel cried, throwing the box viciously against the wall and collapsing into a fit of laughter.

It took almost five minutes for the collective hilarity to die down enough for Gabriel to say that he’d already gotten his revenge. “Sent a stripper to his office.” He explained. “A specialty stripper. He’s called Beelzebub. He’s the Lord of the Flies.”

“Oh, jesus!” Sam laughed, and they were all off again. Yeah. Definitely shaping up to be a great Christmas.


	10. Take Your Own Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry it’s taken so long but, you know how it goes. We’re getting back into some plotty plot now so hopefully I will manage at least two more updates in February. Work is going to be insane so I’m hesitant to promise any more than that. I decided to skip over Christmas itself because I felt like the previous chapter addressed it well enough and any more would be milking it. Rest assured, in my mind everything went smoothly for everyone. Dean and Sam lounged around in their PJs all day and had Chinese food while Gabe took Cas to church for evening mass.   
> Thanks so much for the continued support and feedback, even though I am the worst at keeping updates regular!

Cas dragged his arm across his forehead, wiping away the steam that had gathered as he stood over the row of chaffing dishes. A woman who might have been in her sixties stood across from him, gripping her plate in freshly-scrubbed hands. Cas offered her a soft smile and a healthy scoop of roasted vegetables, getting a weak nod in return. So many people here were quiet tonight, but Castiel could understand why. New Year’s Eve, a night of celebration for so many. It was supposed to be an evening spent with friends, marking the passing of the old and the start of something new. It was meant to be a night full of hope and laughter, of contemplations and resolution. Back east he would have been sharing a single glass of Luis Roederer with his brothers, perhaps listening as their father read aloud. They would be giving thanks for their many blessings, content in the comfort and solidarity that came with the Novak name. But for these people, hope seemed a little too far out of reach. Comfort and blessings were not readily enjoyed. New Year’s Eve in a soup kitchen was hardly a sign of great things to come.

Still, Castiel did what he could to raise their spirits, and at the very least everyone here would go away with a full stomach. The other volunteers did the same, treading the line between cheerful and somber as they chatted amongst themselves and with the visitors.

“How are we doing on potatoes?” Norah asked, appearing over his shoulder. She took down her handkerchief to smooth back her blond hair. He’d only known her a few days but Castiel liked Norah. She was hard-working and kind, patient with everyone around her. Castiel’s training with her the day before had been efficient and business-like, and she’d put him directly on the serving line tonight instead of back in the kitchen. It seemed his experience in places like this was something she didn’t see too often and was more than ready to use.

“Still half a pan,” he told her as he carefully spooned up another portion of vegetables for a frighteningly frail old man. He made sure it was a particularly large spoonful. “But I believe Ashely said we are running low on gravy.” 

“Hey, Norah.” called a stocky black woman who looked to be in her early thirties as she edged along the line. She was dressed well against the cold in a puffy nylon jacket, better than many others here.

“Hey, Noni.” Norah grinned, tearing off her plastic glove and offering her hand for a shake. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Hoped you’d found a job.”

“I did!” the woman said with a bright grin. “Working at the Walgreens in Deerfield. Saving up for an apartment. Should have enough by March if things go ok.”

“That’s great!” Norah cried, and Castiel could tell how truly joyful she was to hear it. The rounded the table and gave the woman a hug, drawing smiles and even a few cheers from some of the other volunteers. When she stepped back Noni’s grin was nearly blinding. “Where are you staying in the meantime?”

“Oh, here and there.” Noni shrugged, helping herself to a roll and smearing it with butter. She gave Nora another quick one-armed hug. “Good seeing you, girl.”

“You too. You let me know when you’ve got a place, ok?” Norah asked. Noni promised she would and went to find a seat. Norah watched her go, smiling proudly.

“She was handing out gloves in the line.” Castiel told Norah, who nodded.

“Yeah she does stuff like that a lot.” She told him. “Been coming here a few years and usually has something to share with the others. Bus passes, socks, that kind of thing. I’m so glad things are starting to turn around for her.”

“Do you know everyone who comes here?” Cas asked, doling out another portion.

Norah shrugged. “You get to know some of the regulars but a lot of people don’t really feel like chatting when they come here.” Cas nodded in understanding. “Have you had your break yet?”

Castiel glanced up a the large, chipped clock on the wall, surprised to see it was nearly 8pm. “No. I’m afraid I lost track.”

Norah shook her head with a smile. “That’s fine. You go ahead and take it now. I’ll send Matt out with some more gravy and he’ll cover you.” She clapped Cas on the shoulder and disappearing back into the kitchen. Cas stepped back from the line, untying his canvas apron and carefully hanging it over the railing along the wall. He was hot, nearly feverish from hours standing in the steam of the food line, and decided a few minutes out in the chill night air would do him good. He slipped into the little locker room where volunteers kept their coats, drawing his phone from his pocket as he did.

He switched it on as he swung his arms through his sleeves, ducking back out into the main hall and through the kitchen to the back door. The kitchen was a hive of activity, people coming and going from the large walk-in freezers in the back to the enormous stoves at the front. It was even hotter in here than it was out front and Cas started sweating beneath his coat in just the few short steps it took to carry him from one end of the room to the other. There were two long tables with heated dishes waiting to be taken out, and a line of terrifyingly efficient volunteers washing dishes along one wall. Cas slipped through, staying out of everyone’s way as best he could.

Dodging out the back door was like stepping into Gabriel’s blast chiller, an icy relief from the heat. He glanced down at his phone and found had two texts waiting, one from each of the Winchesters.

 

**Dean: How goes the do-gooding? - 5:17pm**

 

Cas smiled and typed out a quick reply.

 

**Castiel: I’m fairly sure that’s grammatically incorrect, but it’s going very well. Norah was right; it’s very busy. - 7:52pm**

 

He expected Dean would be far too busy at the Roadhouse to reply but he was surprised when his phone pinged back.

 

**Dean: A semicolon, Cas? - 7:53pm**

 

**Castiel: It was warranted. - 7:53pm.**

 

Dean texted back a small cartoon of a man rolling his eyes, which Cas supposed signalled the end of that conversation. He opened Sam’s text next.

 

**Sam: How’s it going? Do you have enough people? - 6:04pm**

 

The plan had been for Sam to come and help as well, but he had been struck by a nasty cold a few days after Christmas. Cas had been almost impressed at the amount of mucus one person could produce. The last thing these people needed, according to Norah, was someone sneezing all over what was for many of them their only hot meal of the day. Sam had reluctantly pulled out and chosen to stay home recuperating. Cas knew he felt guilty about it, and was pleased to be able to reply honestly to assuage his friend’s fear.

 

**Castiel: It’s going very smoothly. There are actually more volunteers than I expected, and so far we look to have plenty of food for everyone. - 7:55pm**

 

Sam’s reply was almost immediate.

 

**Sam: Good! Tell Norah I’ll be in as soon as I’m fit for kitchen duty again. - 7:55pm**

 

**Cas: I will. - 7:56pm**

 

Castiel leaned back against the wall of the building, smiling down at the glow of his screen. It was cold but not uncomfortably so, the stars winking beyond the street lamps and the quiet clamor of a dozen parties drifting from the apartment buildings nearby.

“Texting your boyfriend?” a voice demanded, startling him. He looked up to find the girl from the grocery store standing a few feet away, the familiar red hat on her head and a cigarette balanced between her slim fingers.

“My boyfriend is at work.” Cas explained, tucking his phone away. “I was speaking with a friend.”

She blinked at him. “Jesus.” She sighed, flicking her thumb agains the filter so a small cloud of ash drifted down to the snow. “I was joking, but ok.”

Cas tilted his head at her. “Why would that be funny?” he asked.

She just stared at him, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment. “You don’t get out much, do you, cowboy?” she said finally.

Castiel recognized her discomfort and changed the subject. “Are you here volunteering as well?” He hadn’t seen her tonight, but that wasn’t really surprising. By the time he’d arrived the doors were already open and he’d gone straight to work. The front line people weren’t really mixing with the kitchen staff, everyone was too busy. Norah had runners for refilling the line and so Castiel hadn’t even set foot in the kitchen.

She grimaced. “Yup. Hell of a depressing way to spend New Year’s.”

Castiel nodded. “It could be, yes. But I find it very encouraging.”

“Encouraging?” she scoffed, “What are you, one of those churchy hypocrites?”

“What do you mean?” Cas asked.

She kicked the toe of her leather boot in the snow, scowling at it. “You know, those do-gooders who only really want to make themselves feel better about their lives by spending a few hours with the unwashed masses. Places like this are full of them.”

Castiel frowned. “I don’t think I am one of those.” He said, considering. He’d seen similar people when he’d volunteered before, bored homemakers and resentful rich kids, volunteering in name but in actuality judging everyone around them they were supposed to be helping. “But I will admit being here makes me reflect on how lucky I’ve been.”

“Yeah I’ll bet.” She glared, taking a vicious drag of her cigarette. She blew the smoke straight into his face with a sneer. “Let me guess. You’re a rich kid, right? Raised in an ivory tower? And now you’re gearing up for some Ivy League bullshit so you’re rounding out your resume with a token trip to the homeless shelter. That about right?”

Castiel frowned at her, wondering who had angered her enough to make her snap at him like this. “No, actually.” He snapped right back. “I was raised in a wealthy family but I’m here because they disowned me.”

She blinked at him again, her cigarette glowing brighter as it neared its end. “Oh.”

“The only reason I am not in that line inside is because one of my brothers took pity on me.” Cas continued. “If it weren’t for him I’d have been homeless for the last six months myself.” She was avoiding his eyes now, staring at the trash can on the curb. “Being here makes me remember how much people need each other. It makes me feel like I might be a part of helping these people have a better future, that perhaps my being here is a blessing for more than just myself. Does that make me a churchy hypocrite?” he asked, watching as her shoulders curled in and her anger leaked away.

“No, it doesn’t.” She sighed, dropping her spent cigarette into the snow.

“There’s an ashtray on top of that trash can.” Cas pointed out.

“I’m sorry.” She said, tugging the braid that dangled over her shoulder. “I’m just getting a little fed up with some of the volunteers in there. They’re getting a little too preachy for my taste. Grating on my nerves, you know? It was shitty to take it out on you, though. Sorry.”

“Thank you.” Cas said simply. She leaned back agains the wall again.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who had a shit year.” She said with a weak laugh. Ah. So perhaps tonight was not a celebration for her, either.

“Bad things happen to all of us from time to time.” Cas shrugged, knowing it would sound like a platitude.

“Yeah?” she asked, leaning back against the wall beside him. “But for some of us it’s not just bad luck. For some of us bad shit happens because we’re bad people. Karma, you know?”

Cas looked at her, seeing the sadness and doubt in her face. She looked lost, and very alone. He remembered thatfeeling very well. “Well, we all make mistakes, too. It’s how we learn.”

She hissed a little, vapor streaming from her full lips. “Yeah. Learn to do the same stupid shit next time, but better. More efficient as being a terrible person, that’s me.” 

Cas shook his head. “I don’t really believe people can be wholly bad, just some of us make more bad decisions than others.”

Her expression said she didn’t believe him. “Yeah well, I make enough for about thirty people at a time, I think.”

He smiled. “You don’t have to let them be what defines you.” He told her. She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him and he shrugged again. “I have a friend who needs to be reminded of that from time to time, so I know it sounds cliche. It’s the truth, though. For him and for you, if you want it to be.”

She huffed, kicking her heel against the wall.

“I hope you’re starting out this next year a little better, at least.” He offered.

She snorted. “Yeah. Aces.”

“You are here, helping people who need your help.” He pointed out. “That doesn’t sound like something a bad person does with any regularity.”

“Yeah, but I’m not-” She shook her head, glancing away from him. “Nevermind. New year, new me, right?” she forced a smile. It wasn’t very convincing.

“If you want it to be.” Cas agreed. “I’m certain now more than ever that people can change if they want to.”

“Can we?” she asked, almost wistful.

Castiel thought about Sam, about Lucifer and Gabriel had told him of Michael. “For the better or for the worse, people _can_ change.” He stated, firm.

She stared at him, her large eyes considering. “Well.” She said finally, turning to grab the door handle. “Hope you’re right, cowboy.” She disappeared inside, leaving Cas to watch the stars.

 

* * * *

 

Dean stood beside a Volvo station wagon, his knuckles going white around a breaker bar as he tried to process what he’d just heard. The radio DJ had moved on from the news blurb, yakking on about a contest to win tickets to some country show in Topeka, like he hadn’t just stopped Dean’s heart in his chest.

_Unidentified man, caucasian, early fifties, dark hair…_

Of course it could be anybody. It could be _anyone_ else.

The back door snapped open, a blast of frigid air slapping him in the face. He looked up to see Cas unwinding himself from a long blue scarf, his face all pinched in annoyance as the wool snagged on the buttons of his coat. It should have been adorable. But Dean couldn’t focus on him. He could only hear those words on a loop. _Unidentified man…_

When he’d finally freed himself of his extra layers Cas looked up, a smile dying as he caught the look on Dean’s face. Immediately he was beside Dean, one hand gently pushing the breaker bar from Dean’s numb fingers onto the car roof and the other steering him towards the coffee bar. Dean sat down in the battered office chair with a thud.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice was a gentle rumble. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Dean nodded, making a pattering sound that he realised were tears hitting the collar of his jumpsuit. He was crying, apparently. “I’m fine.” He said, which was one of his lamest attempts ever at a lie.

Cas knelt in front of him, his hands smoothing soothing circles over Dean’s thighs. One thumb came up to brush at the tears on Dean’s cheek and without thinking Dean dropped his face into Cas’s palm.

“Where is everyone?” Cas asked, nudging in closer between Dean’s knees.

“Late lunch.” Dean stuttered. “Spent so long on that truck this morning. They all went out. I’m… I’m holding down the fort.” Cas nodded but there was worry in his face. “It’s fine.” Dean assured him. “I’m fine. It’s not him. I mean, it could be, but…”

“What’s not him?” Cas murmured.

Dean gestured at the radio with one limp hand. “They… uh… they found a guy. A dead guy.” He shook his head and tried again. “In Kansas City. He froze to death, drunk in the snow. Police are looking for help identifying him.” Cas’s blue eyes were shining with confusion so Dean tried to explain the stab of fear he’d felt. “The description… It uh, it sounded like my, like my dad.” He stumbled, his hands starting to shake.

Cas was all around him the, leaning awkwardly over the chair and hugging Dean’s head to his chest. Dean gripped him back, grateful for the reassuring rasp of Cas’s breath against his ear. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Dean could take one deep breath after another and the shaking subsided. Cas tilted back, stroking Dean’s forehead as he settled back on his knees.

“It’s so stupid.” Dean sighed a broken little laugh. “I don’t even know it’s him. All they said was he was white, early fifties, dark hair. That could be _anyone_.” Saying it out loud made it feel more true. That was good. “But… I don’t know. What if it was him? What if he was trying to get back here? To Sammy and me?” he shook his head. “I guess my brain just kind of took it and ran. Sorry.”

Cas smiled. “Don’t apologize, Dean.” He said.

Dean gripped Cas’s wrists. “No, it’s dumb. I just got this crazy feeling. I don’t even know where he is. He could be anywhere. Last I heard he was in Florida, for Christ’s sake.”

Cas twisted free and laced his fingers with Dean’s, squeezing. Dean squeezed back. “It’s alright to worry about him, Dean.” Cas told him.

“I know that.” He said. “I do. I just… He’s gone, right? He’s already out of our lives. Has been for a year. More, really. Why should it matter if…?” Dean stopped, the words too cold on his tongue. Of course it _mattered._

“Of _course_ it matters!” Cas said, gripping Dean’s hands harder. “He’s your father.” Cas searched his face and Dean wondered what he was seeing. Probably shock, still. “Sam said something to me once, something that I think applies.”

“Yeah?” Fuck, how was he gonna tell Sam?

Cas nodded. “He explained to me why I was so afraid of Lucifer’s coming here, even though I knew my family had severed their connection with me. He said that I was afraid because I hoped. He said ‘hope is scary’.”

Dean snorted. Even when Sammy wasn’t there he was the one turning shit mushy. “Yeah? Well what am I hoping for, that this guy they found is my Dad?”

“Of course not!” Cas said, shocked. Dean nodded at him, a weak apology. Cas softened again. “No. You’re afraid it is your father because you are still hopeful that you and he might reconcile one day. If he’s gone, that hope is gone as well. I know how frightening that is, Dean.”

Goddamnit of _course_ Cas knew. Dean had almost forgotten about the stroke that had brought Lucifer to Lawrence, that has shaken Cas to the bone. Of course Cas knew what it was like to worry that your dick of a father might be gone for good. He brought Cas’s fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

“Sorry, man.” He said. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. I can just be kind of a dick when I’m upset.”

Cas grinned. “I’ve noticed that, yes.” Dean swatted at him, chuckling when Cas ducked. Cas caught his hand again and returned the kiss. “Dean, take your own advice: if you want your father to be in your life, reach out. If you don’t, don’t feel guilty about protecting yourself from that pain.”

“Did _I_ say that?” Dean chuckled. “I didn’t know I was so damn eloquent.”

“I’m paraphrasing.” Cas told him. “Your version was slightly more swear-laden. I cleaned it up for you.”

Dean laughed, the sadness and shock leaking out of him slowly. “Thanks, Cas.” He said.

“Call Kansas City. It’s the only way you’ll know.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Are you feeling better now?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Cas smiled back, rising just enough to kiss Dean’s eyebrow. “I’m glad.” He murmured against Dean’s forehead.

Dean leaned into it, a penny finally dropping. “Jesus.” He said, looking up at Cas to find him tilting his head curiously. “I’ve had you kneeling between my legs for like ten minutes now.”

Cas flushed brightly and slapped Dean’s shoulder. “Knock it off.” He said.

Dean grinned. “But I’m _sad_ , Cas. You gotta make me feel better.” Cas rolled his eyes and shoved at Dean’s chest. Dean mad a grab for his ass but Cas dodged. “Must be losing my touch.” Dean lamented. “I’ll remember to play the distress card next time I need you back in that position.”

Cas stared him down, raising one eyebrow in a way that made Dean’s mouth go dry. “I don’t believe _I’m_ the one who has expressed any hesitancy about having my head between your legs, Dean.” He said, so calm and matter-of-fact that he might have been talking about a baseball score. “I doubt much subterfuge on your part will be required, when we get to that finally.”

Damn. Talk about taking someone’s mind off bad news. Suddenly Dean’s whole head was filled with the idea of Cas kneeling in front of him for entirely different reasons. _“Fuck_.” Breathed Dean.

“Not in my shop.” Bobby growled, appearing through the back. That, at least, got Cas blushing again.

“I believe that was an exclamation of surprise, not a statement of intent.” Cas told him.

“You boys just keep it that way. I’m glad you two are working out and all, but I don’t think my sanity would survive finding Dean Winchester’s ass-print on my desk one more time.”

Dean laughed. “Sure thing, Bobby. We’ll keep it PG.”

“See that you do.” The old man disappeared into his office as Benny and Ash piled in from the cold, arguing about whether traditional salsa or salsa verde was the superior condiment. Dean stood, scrubbing a dirty hand over his face to clear the evidence of his tears and pasting on a smile. He moved to follow them, about to chip in his two cents to the great salsa debate when Cas’s fingers closed around his wrist, jerking him to a sharp halt.

“Cas?” Dean asked, surprised to find Cas’s face has shut down. His eyes were hard and angry, his mouth set in a grim frown.

“ _Again?”_ Cas growled, too low for anyone else to hear.

“Hu?”

“He said ‘again’.” Cas explained, and Dean realized he meant Bobby. He grinned, recognizing Cas’s sudden anger for what it must be.

“Yeah, an ex and I got busy in Bobby’s office once. Jealous?” he teased, laughing when Cas nodded.

Dean’s laugh cut off when Cas let go of Dean’s wrist and with a resounding crack that turned Benny and Ash’s heads, slapped Dean on the ass. “Extremely.” Growled Cas. Without another word he walked away, leaving Dean to face his two grinning coworkers.

“Uh. Hey.” Dean offered with a lazy wave. “How was lunch?”

“Brother,” drawled Benny, “when the time comes, that boy is gonna eat you alive.”


	11. Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains past drug use and a lot of angst. It's also a bit longer than my usual chapters but i didn't want to cut it off. I’ve been building up to this bit for a while so I hope it lives up to the hype for you all. Comments and criticisms welcome, and I now have a dedicated email account if you’d like to DM me. You can find that on my profile. Thanks for sticking with me through the interminable between-update stretches!!

Cas leaned against the wall beside the Lawrence High gate, his socks slowly soaking up slush through his shoes as he smoothed his fingers over the torn knuckles of his other hand.

The first day back after the winter break was never pleasant, and it seemed this year would be no exception. Despite riding to school in a car full of friends (still such a novelty in his world), excellent grades returned on all his midterms, and a text from Dean whining about having dropped his sandwich in a pool of motor oil, Castiel’s day had still sucked. The alarm clock’s smug shriek had pulled him from his warm bed with the pre-dawn gloom still hanging heavy outside his window. Even Gabriel’s excellent coffee couldn’t quite shake the haze from Cas’s brain and he’d arrived at home room grumpy and drifting. Raphael had taken advantage of Castiel’s distraction to trip him as he walked past, hooking his toe neatly around Castiel’s ankle and nearly causing him to crack his nose on the next desk. It was a rude reminder that Castiel’s short reprieve from the troglodyte’s tormenting was over.

It had been disappointingly easy to slide back into hyperawareness, his eyes catching on the little areas he might be cornered as he kept sight of every face in the room. Rigby and Kennedy were back lurking on the periphery, casting him vile glances whenever he had the misfortune of sharing a room with them. Even on high alert he’d managed to let three of Raphael’s goons corner him near the biology labs. There was a blind-ending corridor just beyond his new physics classroom and in turning to avoid Carl Sanz - the short, olive-skinned boy he’d kneed in the stomach in that alley fight months ago - he’d accidentally trapped himself. Sanz and a blond boy (Pete, Castiel thought his name was) had tried to take advantage of the relative privacy to bloody him up a little. But Castiel had been too quick, landing a solid punch on the larger boy’s cheekbone and slipping nimbly around Sanz to freedom. He’d scraped his knuckles on Pete’s teeth but escaped otherwise unscathed. 

Lunch had been his only brief reprieve, cocooned in the presence of Sam, Jo and Alfie, listening to them trade midterm results and complain about their new classes. Castiel’s schedule had only shifted a little. He and Jo were mercifully both through with gym, but along with a new physics class he was fulfilling a fine arts credit. He’d been given a list of supplies to purchase and he could already see how gleefully Gabriel would be in going overboard with it.

By the time the final bell rang Castiel was exhausted and more than ready to collapse on his bed and sleep all afternoon. Or better yet, he could curl up on Dean’s futon and press into his warm shoulder. Or perhaps Dean would want to watch a movie. Castiel would happily drift as Dean talked about characters Cas wouldn’t remember, his head pillowed on Dean’s thigh. They would talk about nothing and perhaps Dean would make him tea. And then maybe they could kiss for a while or simply fall asleep.

He pulled himself back from the brink of a daydream, focusing on the people passing by. He had managed to make it through the day without serious incident. It would be absolutely galling to be caught off guard now. As he looked around a flash of red caught his attention, a familiar hat holding back long brown curls. The girl from the soup kitchen was standing in the shadow of the convenience-store awning across the street, shifting from foot to foot. She hugged her arms around her middle, grasping her elbows with her cream-colored gloves. She looked lovely, as always, but Cas could tell even from across the street that she was uncomfortable.

What was she doing here? He was sure she wasn’t a student at Lawrence. Big though the school may be, he was used to seeing the same faces over and over again. If she had been wandering the halls he would have noticed her before now. Was she waiting for someone? The anxious way she scanned the mass of students rushing to freedom certainly seemed to indicate it.

“Cas!” he turned to see Sam shoving his way through the crowd with uncharacteristic haste. He was clutching a sheaf of papers in one hand, his smile bright with excitement. “3.87!” he panted, “I came in at 3.87!”

“That’s fantastic, Sam!” Castiel grinned. Sam was thrumming with victory, more animated now than he had been even after the state championships. Castiel thought he could understand why. For Sam, lacrosse had been about finding a way to close out a chapter in his life with purpose, proving that he had been able to overcome his mistakes and finish on top as he’d always intended to. But the grades were different. The grades spoke of a future that Sam had been working towards for years. This wasn’t just one semester’s grades for him, or even finishing high school at the top of his class, but a stepping stone to a life he had thought lost. Cas grasped his friend’s arm, feeling the shared pride shining in his face.

“Where is Jo?” Cas asked.

“She and Alfie headed out for the Roadhouse. I said we’d walk so they could have a little alone time. You don’t mind, do you?”

Castiel smiled. “Having recently learned the value of ‘alone time’, I think that’s a very good idea.”

As Sam grinned back, Cas caught that flash of red again. The girl from the soup kitchen was crossing the street, marching toward them with her fists clenched at her sides. Sam paused where he was flipping through the papers - his English midterms, as it turned out - and looked up, following Cas’s line of sight.

He froze, stillness washing over him like a wave. He rocked slowly back on his heels and when he settled forward again it was like he’d been petrified. Cas tensed, recognizing the dead, flat look in his friend’s eyes. The girl saw it too,hesitating as she tripped up onto the sidewalk a few feet away.

“Hey.” She said, flicking her wrist in a short wave.

Sam said nothing, his adam’s apple bobbing once as he swallowed sharply. Rage. Cas could see it boiling beneath Sam’s skin, the same as only once before; when he’d answered his phone a few months ago. That spark rippling beneath Sam’s skin told Cas exactly who this girl was.

“Hello, Ruby.” Said Cas, watching her head swivel towards him in surprise. So this was the girl who had been the center of so much chaos in the Winchesters’ lives.

“Oh.” She said, startled. She hadn’t even seen him. “You.”

“What are you doing here?” Sam growled, released from his trance. Castiel was reminded exactly how massive his friend was as Sam peered down his long nose at the girl.

Ruby twirled a finger in her hair, tugging it sharply as she tried and failed to meet Sam’s eye. “Good to see you, too.” She snapped. Cas saw her wince as Sam’s fists tightened. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight.”

“Then why the hell did you?” Sam demanded, ice in his voice.

Ruby threw her weight over one hip, tossing her hair back and slamming her hand down against her thigh. “I came to talk to you, obviously. You can’t even give me that after everything?”

The only sign of Sam’s mounting fury was a slight narrowing of his eyes. “You think I owe you anything?” he asked. To any passerby he might sound perfectly calm, but Ruby took a step back. “Even a breath?”

“Look,” she backtracked, “I just meant…”

Sam loomed forward over her and Cas watched fear and defiance struggle across Ruby’s face. It was like watching a cornered animal. Suddenly she was far less lovely. “I kept quiet, Ruby.” Sam rumbled. “I didn’t say a damn thing because _you asked me_ not to. That is more than I _ever_ owed you.” Ruby cringed. Sam swept by her, not deigning to look down at her as he passed. “Don’t ever speak to me again.” He said, crumpling his test paper in his fist as his long legs carried him away down the sidewalk.

Cas stood for a moment, watching Ruby glare at Sam’s back as he disappeared. When she turned her glare on him Cas nodded to her and turned to follow his friend.

Like the night they’d met Lilith, Sam’s pace was hard for Cas to match. He jogged to catch up and stayed a few steps behind him, allowing his friend some privacy with his anger. Sam was such a gentle presence, usually. He was mild and welcoming, supportive and present. Cas could remember back to the first night he’d met Sam at Reynard’s, the soft smile that had opened across his face as he spoke of Dean. Sam hadn’t tried to hide it from Cas. He had allowed Castiel into his affection even then, when they were strangers. It was so easy to forget that there was another side to Sam, a side that lived up to the fiery Winchester nature. Yet it was so obvious now. Sam’s anger was a palpable force, a suit of armor expanding out around him as he took blocks in his stride.

Sam was about to march straight past Reynard’s, heading for the Roadhouse without even thinking about it, when Cas caught his elbow. Sam dragged Cas on his heels a few steps until he stopped, whirling around with his nostrils flared wide. When Cas didn’t shy away Sam closed his eyes, his lips moving as he counted in silence.

After a moment he opened his eyes again. “What?” Sam said, not unkindly. He was controlled, solid.

“Come with me.” Cas said. He was sure that Sam should not go to meet Jo and Alfie right now. He was also sure that Sam shouldn’t return home. First of all, it was a long, long walk to the Winchester apartment from here. Secondly, Dean would be home in just an hour - shortly after they’d reach the place themselves, probably - and Cas was certain that if Dean caught his little brother in this state he would be unable to stop himself needling and prodding until Sam told him what was wrong. Cas was fairly sure by the tension in Sam’s arm under his hand that that would lead to an explosion.

So instead he led Sam across the street, drawing out his keys as he went. He avoided the shop and went straight up the stairs to the apartment, Sam following silently, his boots heavy on the narrow stairway as Cas unlocked the inner door. Kicking off his shoes, Cas took Sam’s coat and pointed to the couch. Sam went, his fury fading as he watched Cas. Cas hung their coats by the door and paced into the kitchen, setting the coffee on in the french press and pulling out everything he needed for a pair of turkey sandwiches. By the time the coffee was ready he had two stacked high with lettuce and some of the extra bacon from Gabriel’s breakfast. He set a plate and mug on the coffee table in front of Sam, remembering to stir in a generous cloud of milk to his friend’s coffee.

Sam looked up at him, his eyes softening around the edges. “What’s this?” he asked.

Cas sat down beside him and picked up his sandwich, taking a big bite before answering. “You and Dean did something similar for me when I was upset.” He explained, catching a smudge of mustard from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “You let me into your home, allowed me to feel safe there, and gave me something warm to drink. It was immensely helpful. I thought this might be the right time to return the favor.”

Sam’s smile was only a little more dim than usual. “Thanks, Cas.” He said, scooping up his sandwich. They didn’t speak again for a bit, until there were only crumbs left and Cas was refilling their coffees.

“You knew her?” Sam asked.

“Only a little.” Cas admitted, passing him a fresh cup. “She volunteers at the soup kitchen.”

Sam snorted. “She doesn’t _volunteer_ , Cas. She’s doing community service. Probably part of her early release deal.”

That made sense. She’d made a face when he’d noted that good people didn’t volunteer regularly. If she wasn’t volunteering to be there that didn’t really prove his point.

“She was in my math class. That’s how we met.” Sam told him. “She was gorgeous and smart and really funny, though there was always kind of a mean edge to her jokes. I thought it was just sarcasm at first.” He leaned back, letting his mind slide back over those early days before everything went to hell. “We were dating a few weeks into school. Dean was working all the time so she’d stay at our apartment a lot. She’d spend the night and just stay quiet until Dean left in the morning. Her home life was kind of sucky, you know?”

Cas nodded but he was sure he had no idea. Sam’s sideways glance said the same. “You don’t have to tell me any of this, Sam.” Cas reminded him. It was important.

“I know.” Sam said. “But I want you to know why I hate her so much.”

“Ok.” Cas agreed easily, sipping his coffee.

Sam sat back and resumed his story. “Her mom ran off when Ruby was about 10 and her dad was a drunk. He’d hit her once or twice when he was really wasted, so she tried to stay away from home as much as she could. Usually she stayed with her aunt Josie and Lilith. She’s Ruby’s cousin. We bonded over that. Drunk dads, I mean. My dad… well. We’ve told you about him.”

“A bit.” Cas agreed, curling one leg up under himself as he turned to face Sam more fully. “I know you don’t have a very good relationship with him.”

“It’s pretty much non-existent.” Sam agreed. “When I was a kid I was just mad at him all the time. Dean used to pretend that Dad was a superhero or a secret agent. He used to make up stories about how we were on the run from some evil villain or Dad was off chasing bad guys. When I was old enough to realize that John was just a drunk who cared more about getting revenge than about his own sons I just… I was so angry. For years. I still am, sometimes.”

“At him?” Cas whispered.

“At everything.” Sam shrugged. “Dad, Dean, even Mom sometimes. She’d left us.” He waved his hand to cut off Cas’s protest. “I know that dying isn’t the same as leaving, but when you’re six and surviving on stale cheerios and nearly freezing to death sleeping in your drunk dad’s car… well. It’s hard to remember that leaving us wasn’t her choice, you know?” he shook his head. “All I knew was that she’d gone and taken our family with her. She was this presence in our lives, this giant ghost hanging over us all the time. I don’t even remember her. Dean does, and I think that’s part of what made him hang on to Dad for so long. He remembers Mom and what Dad was like before. But I never had that. I barely even had stories of her. Dean and Dad never talked about what she was like, really. Just that she was perfect. All I had was a shitty picture Dad wouldn’t even let me touch. And Dad always acted like she was more important than anything else, even us.”

“I think that’s why I felt so connected to Ruby.” Sam continued. His eyes grew distant as he drew his thumb around the rim of his mug. “She was smart and she was angry too. She was angry at her mom, her dad, the world. She used to say people were scum and I guess she really believed it. I didn’t, not really, but I could see where she was coming from. I used to…” he shook his head, still having trouble realizing how stupid he’d been. “I used to think I could change her mind. I was such an idiot.”

Cas frowned. “It’s not idiotic to want to show someone that people can be worth having faith in.” He argued.

Sam breathed a bitter laugh. “It’s not smart. Definitely not healthy to put as much effort into it as I did.” He took a long drink. “Most of my friends just saw this smart, hard-working student. When they looked at me they thought I was successful, driven. That’s it. That’s all I let them see. Ruby was the first girl… she was the first person in a long time I really felt like I could be myself around. Jo, Alfie, Brady, none of them really _got it_ the way she did. Got me. She knew what it was like to have to drag your dad in the door so he didn’t pass out in the street and get arrested. She knew what it was like to have to pretend that you were fine when you were so angry inside you thought you were going to combust. She knew how it felt to be so desperate to get out but feel like you were stuck in quicksand. She just got it.”

Cas nodded, sympathy swelling. “You didn’t let anyone else see that.” He said.

“No.” Sam agreed. “I kept it all in here.” He tapped his chest with two fingers, then his head. “And here. Doesn’t really get you where you want to go, being angry. It kind of festers, though, when you keep it in. With Ruby I could let it out. Let it bloom. And man did it bloom. After a while I wasn’t just angry at my dad. I was angry at her dad, too. I was angry at my friends for not understanding me. I was angry at Dean for watching me all the time like I was still a freaking toddler.” His knuckled were white around his mug, the ceramic tinkling faintly as his grip threatened to burst it. He looked down, closed his eyes, and counted again. It seemed to really help him calm down so Cas waited patiently until he was ready to continue.

“Most of all I was angry at myself for not working hard enough.” Sam said after a minute. “I thought that if I just could get into the right college I could get the hell out of all this shit. I could leave Dad behind for good, show Dean I could stand on my own two feet and be a success. That I didn’t _need_ him to be my mother, father, brother, guardian,” he shrugged, “whatever else he thought he had to make himself into for me.

“I was working so hard and Ruby really liked how smart I was. She always said it was sexy. And like a big moron I let that go to my head a little. So when the first round of tests came up last year and I was stressed out of my head and taking at least two too many classes, she said she had a way for me to focus better and I just… believed her.”

He dropped his empty mug on the table with a hollow _thunk_ and ran a hand through his hair. Blowing his cheeks out in frustration he spread his hands. “I knew it was dumb. I knew it was _beyond_ dumb. But it was just adderall. People take that shit all the time. It was just going to be for test nights. Just so I could focus. And it worked. It worked so damn well that I thought ‘hey, maybe this doesn’t have to be just for tests’. I never really asked her where she was getting them.” He sighed, his eyes glued to the edge of the table like he couldn’t face Cas’s reaction.

“I was getting the best grades of my life. I was dominating at lacrosse and I could really see it, you know? Stanford, Harvard, wherever I wanted to go. Dean hated her from the word go, but he had to admit that she wasn’t ruining my life the way he thought she would. Until he found the pills in my bag.” Sam grimaced. “I’d never seen him look more like our dad than he did then. He was so _pissed_. But I told him I knew what I was doing, that it was no big deal. Hejust about ripped me a new one and I took off. It was the first time I’d stayed with Ruby and not the other way around. Her aunt was at her night job and her Dad had been gone a few days on one of his regular benders so it was just her and I until Lilith showed up. We were doing homework on the floor when she came in and kicked Ruby’s book out from under her.

“She and Ruby bitched at each other for a bit, Ruby was saying that if she was going to get the fuck out of Lawrence some day she had to study and to leave us alone unless she had more pills for us. I was so pissed at Dean, treating me like an idiot kid.” Sam harshed a laugh. “Like he was still controlling my life like Dad had always done. And Ruby still got it. She was like fucking gasoline on a fire. Every time I talked to her about it she would listen and I felt like she really heard me, but it just made me even angrier. I was so mad that when Lilith said she had something a little stronger than adderall I didn’t even ask what it was. I just took it. And it was like fucking jet fuel. Suddenly I had enough energy for _anything._ ” He sat back, his hands gripping his knees and something tight in his face that Castiel didn’t understand.

“By the time midterms rolled around I was on two hundred milligrams a day.” Sam said steadily.

“Of what?” Asked Cas.

Sam smiled without a hint of warmth. “Speed.” He said. “I titrated the dose carefully, researched body weights and various methods of administration. It was just science. Just chemistry. I was too smart for it to get out of control. Ruby had been on different shit for years and she always seemed so controlled. She convinced me we could do it, together. Look out for each other. Not that I really took much convincing. Dean was still snooping around, going through my stuff when I was home looking for pills. We fought about it all the time. I lied to him and he knew but he couldn’t prove it. I never kept it on me. My grades were up, my team was on track to states, my girlfriend and I were always together, everything was great. Until it wasn’t.”

Cas watched Sam grow distant, his mind returning to that place that had caused him so much shame. “Chuck. He’s not an idiot. He knew something was up with me. I don’t know if Dean had said something to him or what but he just came up to me one day, stopped me in the hall and asked me to come into his office. He sat me down and said ‘you know, Sam, you are a very bright young man.’ I told him I was aware of that, got all snot-nosed. He asked me if there was anything I wanted to talk to him about, any worries about my future he could help with. I told him everything was great. Looking back he definitely didn’t buy it. I think he was trying to give me an out.”

“An out?” Cas asked.

Sam’s smile was a bit warmer now. “He was hoping I would come clean, ask for help. He could see me setting myself up for a hard fall, I think. But he never liked Ruby either so I just figured he was being a nosey bastard. I blew him off.” He sighed. “I blew everyone off. Over winter break I barely saw Dean at all, spent all my time with Ruby. She said it was time to celebrate so we partied like idiots. I got high for fun for the first time on New Year’s Eve. It was amazing. Ruby convinced me we had to let our hair down once in a while to keep from losing it,” Castiel shuddered as Lilith’s voice echoed in his head, _let your hair down,_ “so when Lilith brought out the cocaine I thought _what the hell?_

“It was different. Frenetic. Frantic. I liked it.” Sam shivered. “After that we fell into a sort of routine.” He said, rubbing his hands over his knees. He looked rattled, but kept talking. “Speed during the week, to keep focused, coke on the weekends, to let loose. I barely slept, almost never ate. I was still angry, all the time. I was losing weight. Then I started missing practices, studying for twelve hour stretches and not even noticing. And even with all that my grades started dropping. I failed one essay on Plato and when I got it back I had cut off in the middle and started talking about Nietsche and nihilism. When anyone tried to talk to me about shit I just dropped them. It was easier than trying to explain that I was in control of it. I knew I wasn’t, really, anymore, but… I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It still felt like I was going to get through it, get what I needed and move on. I had Ruby looking out for me so that was enough, right? And they weren’t going to even try to understand so…” he sighed.

“Jo, Ellen, Bobby, Brady, I cut them all out. And then Alfie came and found me one day. He was a wreck.” Sam hissed at the memory. “He had a fat lip and a limp, two black eyes and a sprained wrist.”

“He was a walking eggplant?” Cas asked gently, remembering Jo’s description. He was glad to see a glimmer of humor on Sam’s face.

“Pretty much.” Sam agreed. “Raphael had beaten the crap out of him, and not for the first time. And the first thing he said to me was ‘are you ok?’” he snorted, flipping his hair back from his face. “That was the first time I really looked at myself in a long time. The kid is beat to shit and he wants to know if _I’m_ ok? It scared me. So I went to the bathroom and just looked at myself. And I didn’t recognize me. It was fucking terrifying.

“I went a little crazy.” Sam said quietly, looking at his hands. “One thing about speed is it makes you kind of obsess on things. Well, it did me, anyway. I got fixated on the idea that I’d let Alfie down. I’d been so focused on me and what I needed that I’d let Raphael beat him up. And I hadn’t even _noticed._ I thought about that for two days straight, just getting angrier and angrier. But not at myself, cause I was still doing the right thing in my head. I was angry at Raphael. And then, finally, I decided I had to make it right. So I found the asshat and told him to leave Alfie alone or he’d have to deal with me.”

“I imagine that went over splendidly.” Cas said wryly, drawing a dark chuckle from Sam.

“About how you’d expect.” He shrugged. “He started in with all his idiot swagger and I wasn’t having any of it. I was on a mission. And then he…” Sam rolled his shoulders forward, hunching over as if the words were a physical blow in his gut. “‘Just a fucking junkie’,” he recited in a husky growl, “‘another fuck up like your piece of shit Father. That why you don’t have a mom? She knew you Winchesters were trash and found herself a better cock to suck?’”

Castiel became aware that the sound he heard was his own blood rushing in his ears, fury sparking in every pore. “That _parasite._ ” He hissed. Sam blinked, surprised to see such emotion from Cas.

“Yeah.” He agreed, tucking his hair behind his ears. “And I just… lost it.” He shuddered hard, clasping his hands together. “I don’t really remember it. I remember Chuck pulling me off him. It couldn’t have lasted more than a minute. But it scared me so damn much, that I could rip into someone like that. I was definitely _not_ in control.

“I ran to find Ruby, and she wasn’t home. I couldn’t find her. I didn’t know what to do. So I called Lilith, got some coke, and took all of it. And suddenly I felt like I was in control again, or at least in control of being out of control. So I went home. Dean was there. It was the first time he’d seen me coked out.” Sam’s frown trembled and Cas wondered if he were holding back tears. “He went nuts. I was too high to remember much of what we screamed at each other but I remember telling him I didn’t fucking need him. I took a swing at him and he punched me and I fell on my ass. I started laughing. That’s when Ruby showed up.” Castiel tried to imagine Dean raising his hand against his little brother. It was difficult.

“I left with her. Must have said some terrible shit to Dean as I was going ‘cause I can remember his face…” Sam’s mouth twisted up and he squeezed his fingers tight over his knuckles. “Heartbreak.” He said, and Castiel nodded. “Ruby was going to drive us to her aunt’s and Lilith, and I was going to stay there for the night, maybe forever, I don’t know. I busted out the Impala’s window and told Ruby how to hot-wire her, kind a big ‘fuck you, Dean’ on my way out. I remember her laughing as she drove, wild. I wanted to fucking marry her. I was finally free and she was so beautiful…” 

Sam stood, taking Cas’s empty mug and his own to the sink, running the water to fill them as his jaw worked back and forth. He was struggling, Cas could see, reliving all of this. Cas sat patiently until Sam returned, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“When I woke up in the hospital, tubes sticking out of me and an ache in my chest so bad I could barely breathe, the first thing I heard over the machines was Dean’s pissy voice telling the police officer to get the fuck away from the door and let him in.”

Cas watched a tear escape his friend’s eye, rolling down to dangle from his jaw.

“He just hugged me. Held on for so long. I thought he was never going to speak to me again but he just stayed with me. The cops were involved at that point, so I didn’t really have a choice but to face it all, but Dean was right there the whole time. He found the best lawyer I could get, fought like hell to settle things with Chuck and the school. I landed in counselling with Tessa and a four week rehab. The lawyer was good. She managed it so that if I completed my program and stayed clean for a year my record would be expunged. Even with the Raphael thing I had a good record and had never really been in trouble before. Ruby had, though. Plus she was the one driving and had coke and ecstasy in her system so she went to juvie. My lawyer argued that I hadn’t known she was high, which was true. I never asked, though. I didn’t see her after that night.

“By finals I was clean and I managed to squeak by. Chuck somehow smoothed things over with the Finnermans so that I didn’t get expelled. I still don’t know how he managed that.”

Cas pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin atop them, watching Sam’s fingers trace subtly over the veins in the back of his other hand, like he was still feeling an IV there. They listened to the hum of traffic on the street below for a minute before Sam spoke again.

“I don’t hate her for ruining my life, Cas. I know Dean still thinks it was all Ruby’s influence, that she led me astray or whatever, but that’s not it.” He looked Cas in the eye for the first time since he’d begun this story. “I hate her for showing me who I really was. All that shit I did, all those stupid reasons I had for the speed and the coke and the anger, they were mine. They were me. She just let me feel them. I hate her for who I was when I was with her. I don’t want to be that way again.”

Cas stared back at Sam, watched the steel behind his eyes. When Cas spoke it was soft, but assured.

“You won’t.” He said.


	12. Ill-advised Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I’m sorry if this chapter seems rushed but I have no time to edit right now. If you catch anything I would appreciate a heads up! Also this chapter title could really describe most of the plot-points for every episode of Supernatural ever written.

The sunset bled in from the street, streaking the walls in bloody orange as they sat together in silence. Sam’s breathing had slowly settled, his head tipped back over the back of the couch and his large hands resting slack on his thighs. A handful of pigeons crowded onto the windowsill to roost, cooing soft and soothing.

Cas unwound himself from the couch to make some tea. He wasn’t sure if Sam even wanted it, especially after all that coffee, but it gave Cas something to do with his hands while he though over all Sam had said, The anger was startling, the depth of it, but Cas understood now where it was directed. It wasn’t Ruby Sam hated, but himself. To know that he could make those decisions, hurt people - hurt Dean - that way. To allow people around him to be hurt, that must be more painful than anything she could have done to him. He was a Winchester, after all.

It wasn’t hard to understand how Sam might have felt smothered by Dean, controlled. It was written into every molecule of Dean to watch out for Sam. _Protect_ was a fundamental part of his makeup, and his little brother would have borne the brunt of that fierce affection for most of his life. Cas didn’t blame Sam for resenting it, especially if he had watched Dean go through all the same hardships alongside him, always taking the load off Sam’s shoulders wherever he could.

Cas glanced around Gabriel’s apartment, the familiar walls, the hideous decorations. The hula girl lamp. It was home now, after nearly a year, his home. Theirs. But it hadn’t always been. Of course Sam would want to protect Dean, too, would want to allow his brother to enjoy his life without feeling obligated to watch over Sam every moment. The drive he must have felt… Cas knew how unbearable it was to be a burden to those you loved.

He poured two cups of tea and took a few chocolate chip cookies from one of Gabriel’s many stashes. He set mug down on the table in front of Sam, placing the cookies atop it for the steam to warm them. Sam looked down at the offering and smiled, the harsh pain of his memories melted away leaving something tired and fond.

Cas pursed his lips, unsure if he should push Sam any further, but something was bothering him. “You said today that you kept your mouth shut. What about?”

Sam sighed. “Lilith.” He said quietly, picking up a cooking and crumbling the edge off into his fingers. “Ruby… Lilith’s all Ruby really has anymore. It’s a fucked up relationship, and Ruby would definitely be better off without her, but she asked me not to give Lilith up if we ever got in trouble over the drugs. She told me to always say I got the drugs from her, that I didn’t know who her dealer was. So when the cops asked me I said they were Ruby’s.”

“You lied for her.” Castiel said, not particularly shocked.

“I don’t know if I would do it again, now that I’ve had some time to get Ruby out of my system.” He smiled wryly. “Among other things.”

“Do you regret it?”

Sam picked up a cookie, pinching off a crumble between his fingers as he considered. “No.” He said finally. “I made my choices. Maybe I got the drugs easier with Lilith always around, but I’m not an idiot. Well, I _am_ an idiot. I knew what I was doing. I decided to take the drugs. She didn’t trick me or convince me or anything. I just thought I could handle it. The only time I’ve regretted it was when I saw her with you at Brady’s party.” Cas remembered his fury. That, too, was directed inward it seemed, at his decision to protect the girl he then feared would hurt his friend. “I don’t know. Maybe I should say something.” Sam shrugged.

Cas sipped his tea and wondered.

Just as the sun finally disappeared completely and he was about to get up to start turning some lights on Cas’s phone vibrated violently in his pocket. He started, pulling it out to flick open the screen.

“Damn. That’s probably Jo and Alfie wondering what the hell happened to us.” Sam chuckled.

“No,” Cas said as he saw a notification of a message from Dean. “I texted them when I was making the sandwiches to let them know we wouldn’t make it. I’m sure they were all too happy to accept the opportunity for more ‘alone time’.” His air-quotes drew a smile from his friend. “It’s Dean.”

“Oh.”

Cas was too distracted trying to make out the photo Dean had sent to notice Sam’s sudden tension. It appeared to be several bowls and packages of different foods, lettuce, tomatoes, different cheeses, and a lump of something Cas couldn’t make out but thought might be bread of some kind.

“What is this?” he asked, turning to phone to show Sam.

Sam squinted, snorting as he shook his head. “Taco stuff. I think he’s inviting you for dinner.”

“Oh.” Cas peered at the photo again. He supposed the bread could be a stack of tortillas.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam said, dropping his eyes away to stare at the corner of the rug. “Could… could you do me a favor?” he asked.

“Of course.” Cas replied immediately. It seemed ridiculous that Sam should ask.

“Could you… not tell Dean about this?” he winced, evidently as uncomfortable with the request as Cas was himself.

“About what, exactly?”

“About Ruby being back around? I mean,” Sam leapt to explain himself, “I don’t know if he told you but his birthday is only a little over a week away. I just… it’s been a long time since he’s had a good birthday. I don’t want this to screw it up for him. Ellen and Bobby and I have kinda been planning a thing…” Sam ran a hand through his hair, “and I just know that he’s gonna obsess about her and start watching me like a hawk again and ruin the whole thing.”

Cas frowned. He had seen how upset Dean became even when Ruby’s name was mentioned. It was certainly believable enough that the idea of her anywhere near Sam would be enough to leech his enjoyment out of just about anything. But at the same time Sam and Dean had both been very candid about the fact that they had some broken trust to repair. Then again, was it Cas’s place to interfere?

“Alright, Sam.” He said finally, frowning harder when Sam flashed him a grateful smile. “On two conditions.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “And they are?” he asked, sounding more curious than angry.

“That you tell Dean once his birthday is over.” Sam flinched but Cas pressed on. “If she is around and looking to speak to you it is not inconceivable that she might eventually run into Dean. He deserves to be prepared for that.”

After a moment Sam nodded. “Ok. And the other one?”

Cas leaned forward, forcing the taller boy to meet his eyes. “If you need to, if she tries to speak to you again or you just become overwhelmed by it all, you will talk to someone. Me, or Jo, or this Tessa woman. Don’t keep it all in this time, alright?”

Sam stared at him, looking for a moment like he might refuse. “Ok.” He said at last.

“I mean it.” Cas pressed, his own swell of anger pushing into his voice. “You _are_ an intelligent person, Sam. You know what you want, and what you don’t. You don’t have to repeat your mistakes and you don’t have to bear them alone.”

Sam was outright smiling by the time Cas finished, and he leaned forward to grip his steaming mug of tea. “Ok. It’s a deal.”

Cas sighed and smiled back, a bit embarrassed at his own vehemence. It might not be his place to intercede between the Winchester brothers, but he had to make sure his friend knew that he was cared for.

“Thanks, Cas.” Sam murmured, as if Cas had said it all aloud.

 

* * * *

 

“It’s good to hear you’re adjusting well to public school.” Lucifer said, and Cas could hear the smile in his voice. “Of course I’m sure the caliber of educators is far below what you’re used to.”

Cas frowned. “I have actually found several teachers that have exceeded my expectations greatly. Chuck Shurley seems to head a very talented staff.”

“Oh really?” Lucifer drawled, unimpressed.

“Yes.” Cas persisted. “And Chuck himself is very impressive. He knows every student on personal level, it seems, which is quite impressive in a school of this size.”

“Not much of an authoritarian, I take it, this Chuck person?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “He can be surprisingly strict, when occasion demands.” He decided not to bring up the one time he had seen Chuck in a disciplinary mindset, as it didn’t cast the most flattering light on the public school setting he was for some reason defending to his older brother. Punching another boy in the face for calling his friend a whore after having a nasty slur spray-painted on his locker was not the most shining example of his newfound enjoyment in the public educational system.

“Mm-hm.” Lucifer hummed, clearly disbelieving. It was Wednesday morning and another of what Cas had come to think of as their weekly check-ins. Lucifer asked him gentle questions about his life and classes, and Castiel begged for news of his nieces and Anna. So far it was going quite well. Lucifer had been kinder and more understanding than Castiel would have ever dared hope. “And how is our dear Dean? Is it time for his flea medication again?”

Cas sighed. Or perhaps not. “Lucifer.” He admonished, drawing a chuckle from his older brother.

“Apologies. But you must admit he is fun to rile, I can almost hear him snarling from here.”

Cas pursed his lips and decided not to tell his brother just exactly how badly he wanted to rile Dean. Lucifer was trying hard to come to grips with the idea of his youngest brother in a homosexual relationship and Cas wasn’t going to do anything to push him too far. “It’s his birthday soon.” He said instead. “I wasn’t aware so I haven’t prepared a gift.”

“Shall I send him a little something to mark the occasion?” asked Lucifer with an audible grin.

“No, thank you.” Cas said firmly. “He is still brooding over your last gift.”

Lucifer snickered. “I hope the coat made up for it. At least to you.”

Castiel felt his eyes gloss over slightly as he pictured Dean in his new wool coat. “It was a very handsome coat.”He said.

Lucifer laughed again. “Yes. I thought you might appreciate his having a decent coat when Gabriel told me how eloquently you praised the one he wore on your big date.”

Cas blushed. He had very, _very_ much enjoyed the sight of Dean all wrapped in finely cut charcoal wool. In fact he’d had some extremely inappropriate thoughts about his boyfriend in that coat. Most of the scenarios he’d imagined would have required the garment to be dry-cleaned sharpish. “You have been talking to Gabriel, too, then?” he asked, changing the subject again.

“Oh, yes.” Lucifer admitted. “Though mostly about you. I have to make sure that lunatic is taking care of you, after all.” A warm little light flared in Castiel’s chest. “Hold on a moment,” Lucifer’s voice went flat. He must have covered the phone or muffled it against his shoulder because for a moment all Castiel could hear were vague mumbles and a far-away female voice.

“I must go.” Lucifer clipped, any warmth bled from his tone.

“Alright.” Castiel agreed. Lucifer had most likely been at work for several hours already, and his lunchtime meetings were probably rolling around. “Shall I call next Wednesday again, or…?”

“Yes, as we agreed.” Lucifer almost snapped.

“Alright.” Cas said, puzzled. “Goodbye.”

Lucifer hung up without answering, leaving Cas to blink at his phone and wonder if he might have said something wrong. He couldn’t come up with anything and decided Lucifer was simply drawn into some important business and had switched back to work mode. This new warmth was still just that, after all: new.

He gathered up his school things and headed down to the bakery, still with time before Jo would swing by to pick him up. Gabriel was working behind the counter and Cas slipped in behind, taking over the long list of coffee orders stuck to the cappuccino machine.

“Lifesaver.” Gabe grinned back at him, wrapping a half-dozen croissants for the next customer. Within a few minutes they’d caught up enough to talk, and Castiel again brought up the worry about finding Dean a present.

“Ah, he’s not that much of a present guy.” Gabriel scoffed.

“But I didn’t get to give him a Christmas gift because we did secret santa.” Cas pressed.

“This for Dean?” Angela asked, appearing through the back with a fresh batch of blueberry muffins. Of Gabriel’s small staff Angela was the most talkative, always ready to include Cas. He suspected she might have at one time had feelings for Dean, or at least flirted with him, because she always seemed to want to know about their relationship. Then again, perhaps she felt relationship talk was just more interesting than whatever else they might talk about.

“Yes.” Castiel said. “It’s apparently his birthday.”

“I’ve never known a man to turn down a naughty coupon book.” She winked, emptying her tray into the nearly empty basket.

Cas tilted his head at her. “Coupons?”

“Yeah, you know,” she grinned, “good for one free blowjob, that kind of thing.”

“Ang,” Gabriel sighed. “He’s seventeen, remember?”

“So?” Angela asked, not at all disturbed.

“So Dean’s been very firm about not getting arrested.” Gabriel said.

Angela blinked. “Oh… so you you haven’t…?” she made a vague gesture that had Castiel blushing to his bones.

“No.” He said shortly.

“Oh, honey. You’d better get ready.” She grinned. “I know the parts are different and all but Dean is no slouch when it comes to revving a woman’s engine.”

“And how would you know?” Gabriel asked, amused.

Angela sniffed, turning up her nose and tucking her tray under her arm. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.” She informed him primly, and pushed her way back into the kitchen.

“Yeah, some lady.” Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“Well.” Cas said grimly. “There’s one suspicion confirmed.”

Gabriel grinned. “If you’re gonna be dating Dean-o in this town you are bound to run into an ex or two. Don’t let it get you all hot and bothered.” Cas grunted. “Or if you do, take it out on him.” Gabriel advised with a wink of his own. “Coupons be damned.”

 

* * * *

 

Dean came in smelling of fries.

Sam had gone to bed an hour or so earlier and Cas was curled up on the futon with his latest English assignment, to distracted by the scent of Dean on the pillow to really take in any of Ethan Frome’s misfortunes. When he heard Dean’s key in the lock and laid the slim book aside, stretching until his back cracked and letting out a pleased hum.

When he opened his eyes Dean was standing over him, peeling off his grease-stained t-shirt and groaning as his shoulders dropped. He flopped gracelessly beside Cas, making the futon squeak in protest. Cas rolled toward him, trailing his hand lazily over the arch of Dean’s ribs.

Dean cracked an eye open, a faint spark flaring. Castiel’s blood quickened.

“Do you have any idea how you sound when you stretch like that?” he grumbled, “How you _look?”_

Cas smiled. “Anna used to say I looked like a happy cat.” He had a faint memory of the library window seat, quite long enough for him to lay down on with one of his father’s books. He’d spent many Saturday mornings hiding behind the curtains when he was very young, drinking in sunlight as he consumed book after book.

“A _sexy_ cat.” Dean corrected, shuffling close enough to latch his lips onto Cas’s neck. Cas arched against him and sighed, dragging his hands through Dean’s sweat-dried hair.

“A busy night?” he guessed. Dean was still working to pay off the fees for the lawyer he’d hired for Sam last year, and a packed Roadhouse, though exhausting, meant a good deal of money in Dean’s pocket.

Dean just grunted, pulling Cas’s hips tighter against his own. His mouth slowly drifted up to Cas’s jaw, then his lips, and they spent a few blissful moments trading lazy kisses. Cas was very quickly alert but Dean slumped further and further into the mattress, boneless and exhausted.

“If you would let me,” Cas whispered against Dean’s jaw, “I would very much like to kiss you all over.”

Dean shivered, gripping Cas’s elbow weakly. He didn’t push Cas away, though. “Oh yeah?” he murmured quietly. “Like where exactly?”

“Your shoulders.” Cas said, leaning across Dean to press a kiss to the point of his shoulder. “Your chest.” He placed a kiss there. Then he lifted Dean’s hand in his and kissed his wrist. “Your hands.”

Dean chuckled. “Really? No place more interesting you can think of?”

Cas smiled. “Many places.” He allowed, settling back into the crook of Dean’s neck. “But I have a feeling you would stop me before I got much further than that.”

“I don’t know.” Dean said, digging his arm until it was under Cas’s waist and stroking a calloused finger against his lower back. “I’m exhausted enough that I might just let you have your way with me tonight.”

Cas nipped at his ear, drawing a groan. “Then I won’t attempt it.” He said, smiling when Dean peered down at him from one reddened eye. “I would like you wide awake for that.”

Dean chuckled and gripped Cas’s rear, sending another frisson of lightning up Cas’s spine. “Took your advice.” Dean whispered against his cheek.

“Hm?” Cas drew his hand along Dean’s naked chest, thumbing tentatively over a nipple. Dean jerked against him and gripped tighter.

“I called. Kanas City.”

Cas leaned back, searching Dean’s face for any sign of distress. He was smiling easily, if tiredly. “It wasn’t your father?”

“No.” Dean said, dropping a kiss on Cas’s chin. “This guy had blue eyes and no appendix scar. Definitely not him.”

Cas sighed. “Thats’ good.”

“Yeah.” Dean agreed. “Means he’s still out there somewhere, probably. I guess that’s good.”

Cas kissed him again, unable to resist his sleepy slack mouth. “Go shower.” He mumbled finally. “You smell like french fries.”

Dean chuckled and hauled himself up, stumbling sleepily to the bathroom as Cas picked up his book again.

 

* * * *

 

Becky, Virgil, and Hannah were all very impressed with Alfie’s new fencing gear at their next practice. The fencing club had moved to Monday and Friday afternoons in the new term, as Virgil and Hannah both had other commitments on their usual days. They all oo’ed and ahh’ed as he sheepishly unpacked it, letting them pass around the jacket and soft shoes.

“Damn, Cas.” Becky said, her voice slightly muffled from inside Alfie’s new mask. “If your big brother’s handing out stuff like this I think I’d better cuddle up to him next time he’s in town. Would you give me his deets?”

Cas frowned but before he could object or ask exactly what ‘deets’ were Virgil snatched the mask off her head. “If we want new equipment we can fundraise.” He said sharply. “What happened to all your connections in the arts and crafts clubs?”

“Oh yeah!” Becky shrilled. “I forgot! Oh, dude, we totally should!” she tapped Alfie’s thigh. “These are damn spiffy. And I bet a couple of bake sales, a few rounds at that craft fair in Topeka my aunt goes to, we could at least get newer stuff than this.” She plucked at the moth-eaten jacket she wore. 

“My mom might be able to help out.” Hannah offered, and Cas vaguely recalled that her mother was in law enforcement.

“How?” he asked.

“Well, the sheriff’s office has a little swear jar for local stuff they change out every couple weeks. Usually it’s a charity or the old folks home but sometimes they do little league teams and stuff. I could ask…”

“How much money could that possibly generate?” Virgil asked, skeptical.

Hannah grinned. “Last month they raised three hundred and twelve dollars for Big Brothers Big Sisters.”

“Holy crap!” Becky cried. “Avengers Assemble!” she pumped her fist in the air.

“Fund raising would be way easier than ‘cuddling up’ to Lucifer.” Alfie mumbled, blushing. “No offence, Cas.”

Cas smiled. “He _is_ my brother, Alfie. I’m aware that ‘cuddly’ would not be in the top thousand words used to describe him.”

“His name is Lucifer?” Hannah asked, eyebrows crawling up under her pleasantly wavy bangs.

“And his is Castiel.” Becky reminded her. “Bible thumping fam, remember?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. He didn’t particularly like that turn of phrase but it wasn’t completely inaccurate. His phone buzzed from his bag and he pulled it out to see a notification from the man himself. “Speak of the devil,” he said, wincing at his own terrible pun. He was spending far too much time with Gabriel.

 

**Lucifer: Are you alright? - 2:46pm**

 

Cas frowned at the screen. What was that supposed to mean? They hadn’t spoken since Wednesday, and he couldn’t think of anything he could have said to make Lucifer worry for him at the time. Indeed, it had been Lucifer who had begun to act strangely at the end there. Cas typed a quick reply.

 

**Castiel: I’m very well. We’re at fencing practice. Alfie is testing out the new gear you gave him. - 2:47pm**

 

He went about getting ready and a few minutes later his phone chimed again.

 

**Lucifer: Are you happy? - 2:51pm**

 

Cas stared at the phone, nonplussed. Perhaps he meant about the equipment? It seemed an odd phrasing but then again if Lucifer were texting from the car or in between phone calls he might be down to the bare minimum of words to save time. Cas was about to respond that everyone was very impressed with the new gear when he phone rang in his hand. The little devil icon Gabriel had set that Cas still hand’t managed to remove danced across the screen. Cas frowned but hit “receive”.

“Hello?” he said, not quite able to keep the question from his tone. Lucifer had never called him. Since he’d taken the phone from him Castiel had always been the one to initiate a call. Why on earth should he be calling now?

“Lucifer?” panic crept into this voice. “Is something wrong? Is it father?”

There was a muffled huff on the other end of the line before it went dead, leaving Cas to stare at his phone.

“Everything alright, Cas?” Alfie asked, frowning at him with his mask tucked under his elbow.

“I don’t… I’m not sure.” Before he could say more his phone chimed with another text.

 

**Lucifer: Apologies, I hit call by mistake. I had a very long meeting with Kinoshita and drank rather more saki than was advisable. - 3:01pm**

 

Cas bit his lip, trying to remember if he had ever seen his older brother drunk.

 

**Castiel: That’s alright. Is everything ok? - 3:03pm.**

 

**Lucifer: Yes. Apologies again. - 3:04pm.**

 

No more texts came, and Cas shrugged to himself. He had never known much about his older brothers’ business dealings, but he knew they occasionally had to entertain important members of foreign companies. He supposed it wasn’t impossible that now and again they might be forced to drink more than their ordinary daily glass of wine, though how their father would view such intemperance Castiel couldn’t imagine. Then again, Lucifer was willing to speak to Castiel when their father wasn’t so perhaps he was not so very obedient as Castiel had always thought.

“Shall we begin?” he asked, tucking his phone away and swinging out with his foil. He rolled his shoulder and stepped up to square with Alfie.

“Sure.” Alfie shrugged. “Hey, do you think we might get a sabre or two when we get new equipment? I’d really like to try with one.”

Cas smiled. “Perhaps. And maybe I could talk Gabriel into coming in to give a few pointers. He was very skilled with a sabre when we were young.”

Alfie grinned. “Awesome.”

 

* * * *

 

Cas frowned at his worksheet, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. There was no way the answer to the function was less than two, but he’d done it three times now and gotten the same answer every time.

“Maybe put it away for tonight.” Gabriel offered from the table he was wiping down. Reynard’s was nearing closing time, empty of all but a couple stressed-out college kids hunched over laptops in the corner. “Come at it again in the morning.”

Cas sighed and threw down his pen. “Probably.”

“Come on.” Gabriel said. “I’m gonna go chase Curtis out of here and then we’ll lock up.”

“Alright. Shall I shut down the coffee machines?”

“Go for it, kid. Hey!” he turned to clap at the students, their heads poking up with blood-shot eyes. “Don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here. Out! Out!” He shooed them with his rag as they gathered their things and threw their bags over their shoulders. “Lock up behind them, would you Cas?” He disappeared into the kitchen and Cas smiled at the students as they shuffled to the door.

“Here,” he said, catching them before they could leave. “Take these.” He dug a few lemon bars from the dregs left in the display case, wrapping them in wax paper and passing them over. The students grunted gratefully and made their way out while Cas typed in the code to open the register and find the keys.

The bell above the door rang again as he came around the counter. “I’m sorry, but we’re-“

He stilled, the keys dangling from his fingers and clinking softly in the silence.

“Hello, Castiel.” Anna said, her camelhair coat drifting around the tops of her wine-red leather boots. Her hair spilled in an unbroken crimson sheet, her thin lips tilted in a smile.

“You called me.” Cas said, immediately realizing what that strange exchange with Lucifer had really been.

“Lucifer has a much higher opinion of his ability to keep a secret than he can really justify.” She admitted, clasping her calfskin gloves in front of her. She looked him up and down, no doubt taking in his periodic table t-shirt (it featured an element called Ah!, the element of surprise and had made Gabriel giggle uncontrollably when he’d first tried it on), and scuffed jeans. “You look well.”

Cas wished he could say the same. She was as put together as ever, immaculately groomed and made up with her usual subtle grace, but there was something in her eyes. Sadness, pain. He wondered if they’d always been there and he’d just never recognized them before.

“Hey, Cassie, did you see what I did with the-“ Gabriel stopped when he caught sight of their sister, his face draining as she turned her placid smile on him. “Hey, Anna.” He said, managing to regain a bit of his usual casual composure. “Lucy spilled the beans?”

“Not intentionally.” She told him.

“Well, I guess you’d better come upstairs.” Gabriel said, shooting a questioning glance over his shoulder. Cas nodded once.

“I’ll show you the way.” Cas offered, passing Gabriel the keys.

Anna stared at him, her lips pinching tight. “Yes,” she said. “I think you might.”


	13. Coward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter out in less than two months? Look at me go! I promise no such speed with the next one, but here’s hoping it won’t be too long a wait. Enjoy! Feedback is life!

Cas climbed the stairs to the apartment, a faint tremor chasing itself through his arms. He trailed his finger along the cuts of the key and tried to let that be his sole focus. Anna climbed silently behind him. The only hint that she was there at all was the subtle waft of _Guerlain_ against the stuffy air of the stairwell. He was bizarrely reminded of Orpheus and his failed quest, the urge to look back and make sure she was still treading the stairs behind him nearly unbearable.

Instead of giving in he held his breath, sliding the key in the lock and flicking on the lights. He toed off his shoes and gestured at the coat rack. Anna peeled off her gloves and slid out of her coat, choosing instead to fold it over the back of a chair than ruin the collar on a hook. She wore a slim-cut dress of dark brown wool that left her pale arms bare, the wide neckline accentuating her delicate collarbones. A diamond tennis bracelet glittered on one slender wrist and their mother’s solitaire pearl rested at her throat. She wore no other jewellery but her gold wedding band. She stared at the apartment, taking in all its garish decorations with a placid expression.

“You’ll excuse me a moment.” Cas said, not really making it into a question. He would not be ambushed again, the way he was with Lucifer, left to figure out the mess of his emotions in the aftermath of their frenzied chaos. He didn’t wait for an answer before retreating to the bathroom, the snap of the lock loud in his ears. He dropped onto the lid of the toilet and tried to figure out what exactly the tightness in his chest meant.

Fear? Possibly. It was certainly nothing like the fear that had flooded his system when Lucifer had first stood there in the middle of Singer Auto. Anna had never been the authoritarian either their father or Michael had been, nor did she have the slick unreadable ambition of Lucifer. She had always been the most like Castiel himself, or at least, the person he had pictured himself as before leaving home. Watchful, reflective, patient, those had always been words that conjured his sister to mind. But so too was she severe, devoted to their faith and their father.

The same wild spring of joy was there that had fizzled through him on first seeing Lucifer again. Family. He’d missed her. _Oh_ how he’d missed her. How many hundreds of days had they walked in parks and sang side by side in church? How many hundreds of nights had she read to him from Stevenson, Dickens, and Keats, her soft, silvery voice lulling him into a dreamy haze?

And yet one night still stood above them all, one definitive night where she had simply sat and stared at him, all empathy and understanding stripped away to reveal that severity, that devotion to a man who could strike his son and tell him he was evil for being homosexual. She had agreed with Michael that night, said nothing when their father had brought down his hand. How like him could she be if she allowed that to happen and said nothing?

Anger. He felt anger. Of all his siblings he had thought that Anna might have been the one to understand, to protect him from their father’s wrath and _speak_ to him with some compassion. But she hadn’t. She had sat still and staring as Rossetti’s Proserpine and said not a single word. From her that hurt more than it had from Lucifer, from Michael. Perhaps that was unfair of him. She had been raised just the same as they had. But it was still the truth.

Anger and hurt. Well, it wasn’t that surprising, really.

He pushed to his feet, running the cold water in the sink and holding his palms under its stream until they stung.

He glanced at himself in the mirror, surprised to see a stony shutter he hadn’t worn in months locking down his features. That look had been reserved for strangers. Perhaps that’s all she was now.

He dried his hands, took a breath, and left the bathroom.

Anna was standing where he’d left her, seeming perfectly content to listen to the odd car passing by and stare at Gabriel’s decor. She looked up at him when he stepped out, her blue eyes pretty and clear and cutting. She didn’t say a word. 

“Is father alright?” Castiel asked, breaking the silence.

“He’s recovering well.” She answered, passing her gloves from one hand to the other. She didn’t sound like she particularly cared. She leaned forward and flicked on the hula girl lamp, studying it from the light of its bile-yellow lampshade. After a few seconds she turned it back off.

“Does he know you’re here?” Castiel asked, unsure what answer he was hoping for.

“You mean does he know where you are?” Anna corrected, not unkindly. “No. I doubt he wants to know.”

That stung, though it was certainly the truth. Castiel had often wondered how difficult it would have actually been for their father to find him here if he had wanted to. Certainly it hadn’t seemed to be much trouble for Lucifer, once he decided to try. And their father had all the resources imaginable should he want to contact either Cas or Gabriel.

“And Lucifer?” he asked.

“No.” She said again, a faint smile showing. “I deleted the messages I sent you, and the call from his phone log. And of course Michael knows nothing at all.”

Castiel snorted. “Michael has known for months.” He told her, perhaps more harshly than he should have. For some reason she had tried to preserve his secret, but he doubted it was for his benefit. She blinked. “He called Gabriel to inform us that I was no longer on the family insurance. That was his only response to finding out I was in the hospital”

She stared, her face betraying nothing. “You were ill?” she asked.

“Injured.” He admitted sourly. It still rankled to think how he’d let those idiot goons of Raphael’s get the drop on him, even months later.

“I see.” Was all she said. Castiel began to see why his unblinking stare had always put people off. Before Lawrence he had been terrible at reading other people’s expression and social cues, but months of close association with the Winchesters and Harvelles had shown him just how expressive a simple smile could be. To be faced with such a blank mask again was infuriating.

Cas took a deep breath and blew it out through his nose. So Lucifer didn’t know that Anna had discovered them. He wondered if he could have expected a warning call if his brother had known. “Why go to such lengths? Why the secrecy?” he asked, “If you knew Lucifer and I have spoken, why not broach the subject with him?”

Before she could answer they heard Gabriel stomping up the stairs, his voice carrying in his annoyance. “I don’t care how expensive your high tech phone security is, I’m telling you, it’s shit.” He barked, pushing into the apartment and chucking his keys at the kitchen island. They landed in a jangly clatter as he kicked off his shoes. “She’s in my fucking apartment, Lucy. So get your shit together and be glad she doesn’t want to sell your client list to the highest bidder.” He jabbed the end button and threw his phone at the couch where it landed with a soft thud.

He thrust out one hip, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Anna with venom in his eyes. “What is it about you people that prevents you from making a fucking phone call?” he demanded. “Why do you have to just show up unannounced and expect everyone to drop their shit and pay attention to you?”

Anna tilted her head at him. “I did call, but I hung up.” She told him. So that had been her on Lucifer’s phone. Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I was unsure what to say, and how I would be received.” She explained. “I decided instead that I would come here, counting on Castiel’s natural generosity to at least allow me a brief conversation. It is much easier to hang up on someone than to turn them away in person.”

“So you took away his choice to be pissed as hell at you, which as far as I can tell he has every right to be.” Gabriel growled, and Cas could see the trace of frustration that he still didn’t know all that had happened the night Castiel left home.

Anna just nodded, shameless. “I did. And you’re right, his anger is justified.” She turned to Castiel. “I asked you if you were happy. I would like to hear your answer.”

Castiel glared at her, trying hard to hold onto his anger. But there was something there, something eager and tense as she waited for his reply that softened him. And the sadness he’d seen downstairs seemed to swell out behind her eyes into something vast and hopeless.

He sighed. “I am, Anna. I am happy.” He glanced at Gabriel, smiling, and Gabriel pursed his lips in an effort not to smile back.

Anna watched them, her eyes tracing every tiny movement in their expressions. Finally she nodded. “That’s very good.” She said, and began to cry.

Castiel stared, trying to remember if he’d ever seen his sister cry before. She didn’t sob and wail like the women in television shows, or wring her hands or collapse on the sofa. She stood, straight and tall with her head tipped back as tears silently ran down her cheeks. Gabriel shot Cas an alarmed glance and stomped into the bathroom, reappearing with a roll of toilet paper that he placed beneath the hula girl lamp awkwardly.

In only a few minutes Anna composed herself. She ignored the toilet paper in favor of a handkerchief she slipped out of her coat pocket. She dabbed at her face a bit and returned it and her gloves to the pocket, folding her hands in front of herself.

“Apologies.” She said, and Castiel realized he should have recognized the word she’d used in Lucifer’s texts. Lucifer didn’t apologize, and he’d have been much more likely to continue the call and pretend it had been purposeful than to admit something as silly as hitting the wrong button.

“I have prayed every day since you left that you were safe.” Anna told him. “And that you had found some measure of happiness. I am thankful my prayers were heard.”

Gabriel snarled. “Don’t you _dare_ take any credit for what he’s done.” He told her. “Do you know how hard it was? He left behind _everything_ , Anna. He had no idea where to go or what to do or if he was even going to survive. He was willing to be _homeless_ because he knew he was right _._ And if he’s not it’s because he swallowed that damn Novak pride and worked his ass off to make something of himself. Don’t you dare think that saying a few pretty words kneeling at the foot of your California King for two minutes every night had _anything_ to do with it!”

Anna cocked her head at him again. “Are you speaking of Castiel’s sacrifices, or yours, brother?”

Gabriel flushed. “Yeah, I had to go through that shit too, and without anyone watching my back. So I might be a little sensitive, but that doesn’t change the fact that Castiel has been the brave one. Castiel has been the one to suffer. He has been through hell and back and if he got through it has nothing to fucking do with you and your goddamn prayers!”

“Gabriel.” Cas laid a hand on his brother’s quaking arm. “It’s alright.”

“It’s fucking not!” Gabriel insisted, pointing an accusing finger at their sister. “She-“

“He’s right.” Anna cut them off, her voice ringing. “My prayers were for my own sake as much as yours. The guilt I felt for not standing up when I knew our father was wrong has been consuming me.”

Cas frowned at her. “You knew?” he asked.

“That you were homosexual?” She shook her head. “No. But I knew the moment he said that you must not speak evil in his house that he was wrong. What you said was a truth, a truth about yourself that we had not known. You are an honest person, Castiel. You would not lie about such a thing. And if it was the truth then it could not also be an evil.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked. “There are truths which are evil.” Again he thought of Raphael, of the delight he took in hurting other people.

“Of course, but you are not evil.” Anna said, and the first trace of fire appearing in her voice. “You are _good_ , Castiel, wholly and plainly, of that I have always been convinced.” A bright flash of something ripped through Castiel’s body at her words, leaving him numb and silent in its wake. “And so if you were homosexual it could not be an evil, and our father was wrong.”

There was silence in the apartment, broken only by the rapid beat of Castiel’s heart.

“Coward.” Gabriel hissed. “You _coward!_ ” he thrusting his finger at her, tears starting in his eyes. “You _knew_ he was right, you loved him anyway and you _still_ let him walk out with nothing and nowhere to go?” Castiel had never heard such fury in Gabriel’s voice.

“As I said,” Anna replied, not shrinking for a second from his savage tone, “my prayers have been for my own sake as much as his. I failed him and I failed myself. I have prayed that he should not bear the burden of that mistake.”

“Well he fucking _has_!” Gabriel roared.

“Gabriel!” Castiel shouted, startling them all. “It is alright.” He caught his brother’s hands and gripped them tightly, forcing Gabriel to focus on something other than his rage. “You were here. You found me and you have given me a new home. I have been safe, I have been loved. Through God’s design or your own, you have saved me.”

Gabriel flashed a wounded grin. “You saved yourself, Castiel. You just pulled me along for the ride.”

Castiel smiled, leaning forward to kiss his brother’s brow. He let his gratitude loose, let it shine in his skin and the pads of his fingers where they pressed into the bones of Gabriel’s wrists. Gabriel shuddered lightly, expelling his anger in a long, ragged sigh.

When Cas stepped back Gabriel wore a real smile, small and soft but real. Castiel turned to their sister, pushing away the hurt and anger that lingered. Yes, she had been wrong to stay silent if she’d known their father was wrong. But he could remember the shock he’d felt, the desolation of realizing that their father could be so completely, blindingly wrong. He couldn’t blame her being shocked into silence, for being afraid of the yawning void that had suddenly opened up beneath both their feet.

He closed the short distance between them, taking her folded hands in his own. Her fingers were thin and cool, but she gripped him back with bruising force.

“I forgive you your silence.” He told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I am happy, I am safe. Let go of guilt, now.” He kissed her other cheek and she released one of his hands to cup his face.

“You are a good man, Castiel.” She told him, drawing her thumb over his cheekbone. “I am glad to know my mistakes have not tarnished that.”

He leaned his forehead against hers, and they stood together in silence and just breathed.

 

* * * *

 

“Lucy was pretty pissed when he found out you’d cracked his passcode.” Gabriel chuckled, passing Anna a second glass of sauvignon blanc.

It was much later, and Anna and Castiel were curled up together at one end of Gabriel’s sofa, their hips pressed together and her head resting on his shoulder. He still held one of her hands in his own. She’d taken off her boots and had her legs drawn up beneath a shaggy throw blanked Gabriel had produced from a closet. She looked more relaxed than Castiel could ever remember seeing her, a faint warmth in her cheeks that he didn’t think could be blamed on the wine.

“I don’t doubt it.” She smiled. “He has a very high opinion of his own cleverness that often leads him to be careless.”

Gabriel grinned. “Please tell him that, next time you see him.”

Anna laughed. “Tell me more about these friends you’ve made.” She said. “Who is Alfie?”

Castiel explained about meeting Sam and Alfie and Jo, about Ellen and Bobby and his friends from the garage. Anna listened to it all with bright eyes, the sadness slowly peeling off her.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” Gabe asked, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Cas blushed, sipping his water to cover his embarrassment.

“Yes, I believe I’ve heard Lucifer mention the name Dean. Is he another friend of yours?” Anna asked.

“When on earth would Lucy have mentioned Dean to you?” Gabe laughed.

Anna snorted. “Not to me, but he has been very indiscrete when he believes himself alone in his office. I overheard enough to make me start suspecting he was in contact with one or both of you. That’s why I stole his phone. You don’t think I’m in a habit of rooting through Lucifer’s personal belongings, do you?”

All three of them shared a shudder.

“He wanted to tell you.” Castiel said gently, an apology in his tone. “But I was afraid. I asked him to give me more time.”

“Of course.” She said, squeezing his hand. “I don’t fault you for it. But then tell me, is Dean a friend?”

Cas smiled shyly. “A very dear one.” He nodded. “He is Sam’s older brother, and works for Bobby and Ellen both.”

“He is more than a friend?” she pressed, seeming to already know the answer. Castiel chuckled, glad that she could so easily talk about his homosexuality. She had, actually, come to believe that he could be gay and a good person. It was fantastic.

“Yes.” Cas said. “We have been dating since before Christmas. Although,” he frowned, “we have only been on one actual date.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Lucy even sent him date night money for Christmas. You gonna make use of that soon?”

Castiel shrugged. “Perhaps for his birthday.”

Anna smiled. “If Lucifer likes him I am not sure whether to approve. He treats you well?”

Cas nodded. “He’s a very gentle man.” He said, knowing Dean would squirm and bluster at the description.

“Also hot as shit.” Gabriel said with a wink.

Cas spluttered but Anna just laughed. “Good.” She said with an air of decisiveness.

“And you?” Cas asked. “How is Richard?” He had never particularly liked his sister’s husband, a successful surgeon without an ounce of compassion. But Anna had married him when their father told her, and he hoped for her sake Richard had hidden depths to make him a better husband than he seemed.

Anna sighed and that air of melancholy descended again. “I do not know how Richard is, and I do not care.”

“What?” Gabe jumped.

“We have been separated for nearly a year.” Anna admitted. “Just after you left, Castiel.”

“What do you mean?” Cas breathed, shocked. Divorce was not something the Novak family allowed. For Anna to even be considering it would have driven a wedge between her and their father.

“I haven’t told Father,” she said, guessing his thoughts. She twirled her wedding band with her thumb, frowning at it distastefully. “I was working up to it when the stroke hit. Since then it has seemed a selfish thing to thrust on him.” She slid the ring off her finger, staring at it before placing it on the coffee table with a defiant clink. “But I’m tired of pretending. I cannot love Richard, I cannot even respect him, and he certainly has no respect for me.”

“He cheated?” Gabriel guessed, drawing a nod from her.

“Multiple times with multiple people. I do not know or care exactly who, and I barely blame him. Our marriage has never been one of love or even affection. I thought it was my duty to father to stay with Richard, but I have come to see that so much of what I believed has been nonsense, utter stupidity. What use is there in honoring a marriage when your husband does nothing but break his vows?” She shrugged to herself. “Besides, he’s always been a boring, mean creature and I’m glad to be rid of him. I’m just thankful we have no children. I won’t file for an official divorce until father is well or dead, but as to the rest of it I’ve washed my hands of him. I’m ready to live my own life how I see fit. If it is selfish I have confidence God will punish me,” she smiled at them, “but my brothers have taught me that God can speak not just in scripture, but in our hearts. I think I finally have room to hear him.”

Castiel squeezed her hand, pressing another kiss to her cheek. So she had been brave, after all. It may have come a little late for him, but to see her so determined, so ready to look for what he had found, made him proud. 

“Jeez.” Gabriel said with a theatrical sigh. “The fucking speeches we Novaks come up with. You’d think we all went to drama camp or some shit.”

Anna laughed and settled back against Cas’s shoulder,

“Now there is only Michael.” Cas said quietly. “I suppose he has not changed his mind?”

Anna’s smile dimmed. “No.” She said. “He is as much convinced as he ever was that homosexuality is a sin and that you’ve shamed our father. I’m sorry, Castiel.”

“It’s alright.” Cas sighed. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that the likelihood of his ever speaking to Michael again was incredibly slim.

“He’s a douchenozzle.” Gabriel reminded him helpfully, but there was a touch of pain underneath. “Anyway, if he shows up here unannounced and just drops in like you and Lucy have, Anna, I think I’ll probably punch him right in his fat nose before he gets a word out.”

“I think you’d do more damage to your fist than his nose.” She said, smiling. “But he would probably deserve it.”

“Maybe I’ll get Dean to do it for me, then. He almost popped Lucy a couple times.”

Anna blinked. “He must be a very brave young man.” She said.

“Yup,” Gabriel agreed. “And a little stupid.”

“Hey!” Cas protested.

“Reckless a better word?” Gabriel grinned.

“I prefer ‘protective’,” Cas told them, “but I suppose reckless would not be entirely inaccurate.”

“And most importantly, remember,” Gabriel said with a wink, “hot as shit.”


	14. Family Resemblance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feedback I’ve been getting on this work has been so lovely, thoughtful, and motivating. I can’t thank you all enough for keeping me going!

Twenty-one was too young for aching feet. Of course he would be twenty-two in a few days, but still.Way too young to be thinking about supportive insoles, definitely. Dean rolled his ankles out, trying to redistribute his weight off his aching arches as he drew up another pint. He flattened his feet with a grunt, a sharp pain shooting through the ball of his foot as he stacked the beers on his tray.

“Winchester!” Ellen hollered, shoving two heaping plates through the service window for Pamela to pick up. “Quit catching flies and move your ass!”

“Sure thing, Ellen.” Dean chirped, hoisting his tray onto his shoulder. His arms ached, too. And his back. Yep, definitely beginning the slow descent into decrepit…ness. The beginning of the end.

To get his birthday off Dean had switched a few shifts around, called in a favor from Benny, and ended up with an eighteen hour work day between the garage and the bar just four days ahead of it. Eleven hours in and he was already regretting it. How the hell was he going to make it through three more work days after this? But he wasn’t going to let his birthday put him and Sam behind on the monthly intake and since Sam insisted he take the day off and relax a little it meant Dean had to get through the next seven hours without collapsing. He plastered on his brightest, fakest smile as he reached the table full of college kids and plonked their drinks down.

The cute brunette on the end got an elbow and a grin from her blond friend as Dean leaned over to drop her beer on her coaster. Dean threw them a wink for the hell of it. The brunette smiled and Dean trotted back to the bar to deal with a group of middle-aged factory workers who’d just walked in. With any luck he’d be getting a good tip along with the phone number that he was pretty sure was coming his way from that table.

Not that he had any use for phone numbers scribbled on napkins anymore.

He grinned to himself as he pushed into the kitchen and thought of Cas - only the fifth time in the last hour, he was getting better! He wondered if that jealous streak he’d seen a few times before would rear up at the thought of some girl slipping her number into the pocket of Dean’s apron. Probably. Cas would _definitely_ take issue with the number of girls who usually groped Dean’s ass on a Friday night. The kid would be all over him if he knew that little detail. Teeth and tongue and muscled chest pressed up against him… It made Dean all tingly just thinking about it.

“Dean!” Ellen hollered, her eyes snapping in amused exasperation.

“Sorry.” He grabbed the baskets of burgers she’s put up for him and hustled over to Benny and Ash’s table in the corner. The mechanics had headed over a couple hours after Dean when the garage had closed, ready for a good dose of grease and hops after a long, gruelling shift.

“You gonna make it through, brother?” Benny drawled, pinching a french fry between his huge fingers. He nudged his beer across the table and Dean took a grateful swig.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Dunno what I was thinking.” He sighed.

Ash grinned, already five beers in and showing it. “I know exactly what you were thinking.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows madly. “You were thinking you wanted a little time off to get some birthday lovin’ from the Toothpick.”

“Jealous?” Dean challenged, half-amused, half-annoyed. If it were a total stranger Dean wouldn’t have given two shits what they thought, but for some reason he still expected _someone_ in his life to flip out about him being bi. He knew Ash didn’t mean anything by it, that he ribbed Benny just as bad about his girlfriends, but it still hit a tiny sore spot in Dean’s chest when the mechanic poked at him about Cas. Dean Winchester liked an occasional dick, goddamnit, and if anyone wanted to tell him Cas wasn’t worth his time let them damn-well try.

Ash flicked his mullet back over his shoulders and stuck out his bottom lip. “Damn straight, I’m jealous!” he sulked, to Dean’s surprise. Not quite the response he’d been expecting. He realized how tense his shoulders were, rolled forward like he thought Ash might be about to attack. He could hear Sammy’s voice in his head telling him how unhealthy that reaction was.

“Kid’s smart, got some badass judo moves, and he’s got an ass that just won’t quit.” Dean was glad he hadn’t had a mouthful of beer or he was pretty sure Ash would be wearing it. As it was he made a sort of strangled “euk” noise and stared at the mechanic. Ash didn’t seem to notice, just slumped over his elbows on the table. “I could stand to find myself a woman with similar attributes.”

“Well you’re next.” Benny chuckled. “I got Ashley, Dean’s got Cas. One of these nights we’re gonna have to find some lovely young thing and pump her so full of whiskey she thinks agreeing to a date with you might not be like volunteering for a suicide mission.”

“Hey!” Ash puffed himself up, fluffing his bangs. “For your information I need no help when it comes to females. They are captivated by my majesty.” He shook out his mullet, Dean and Benny sharing a snicker. “It’s just a little hard to get a word in edgewise with Señor Winchester poking his pecker into every eligible lady that walks by.”

Dean lazily bounced a peanut off Ash’s head. “It’s not my fault girls in this town have _taste_ , Ash.” He said.

“Ah, but now Winchester is off the market and us poor slobs have a chance again.” Ash laughed. “You’ve been ensnared by the pretty eyes and dusky voice of our own Castiel Novak. Never thought I’d see it but that kid makes you go downright gooey, Dean Machine.”

“Don’t be fooled, Ash.” Benny drawled, tipping the neck of his bottle at the other mechanic. It was his fifth or sixth too and he was wearing a constant beatific smile. He winked at Dean, who grinned back, embarrassed. “That kid’s a firecracker, I guarantee it.”

Ash blew a loud raspberry and Benny jerked his food out from under the spray. “Nah. Bet he’s all shy and fumbly. Dean likes the wild ones but he’s always had a not-so-secret soft spot for the blushing virgin type.”

Dean rolled his eyes and cleared Ash’s empties, hurrying over to refill a few soda’s at another table. He could see Benny and Ash still eyeing him, laughing as Ash’s gestures got more and more outrageous. He saw Ash head to the bar twice before Dean got back to their table, and by the time he came to give them their check the littler mechanic was swaying in his seat.

“So which is it, Winchester?” Ash pressed immediately, his teeth glinting as his smile widened. “I saw him smack you on the ass that time but I bet that’s all show, right? Cas is driven snow, right?”

Dean cleared his throat, trying to think of something flippant and sufficiently butch to sling back at the pair of them. When nothing came to mind he decided to try honesty. There was a first time for everything, after all. And Ash, at least, seemed pretty hammered so it wasn’t like he was likely to bring this up tomorrow. “Uh, he’s pretty full of surprises, actually. Kinda… demanding.” He was _not_ blushing, despited the twinkle in Benny’s eyes. “But, you know, he’s still seventeen so…”

“Ah, well.” Ash shrugged, slinging an easy arm over Dean’s shoulder. Dean squinted against the eye-watering beer-breath spewed in his face. “Patience is a virtue, they say. Benny, I’ll go double or nothing that once the Toothpick is legal the kid turns out to be pure as vanilla extract.”

“I can’t believe you guys are betting on my love life.” Dean laughed, cringing a bit as the term ‘love life’ actually slipped out of his mouth. Eugh.

Benny eyed Dean knowingly but tilted his chin in acceptance. Dean fidgeted, still not entirely at peace with the thought that these two really didn’t care he was dating a guy. “Kid’s a wildcat,” Benny drawled, “plain and simple. I’ll take that money.”

“Don’t think he’d be super thrilled that you’re betting on this.” Dean said, trying to imagine Cas’s face if he were here. He’d either find if hilarious or completely humiliating…

“Well nerts to him, some of us have hit a little dry spell and need a good distraction.” Ash pouted. “So when’s his birthday? I got a good idea how you two could celebrate.” he grinned at Dean, a vulgar caricature come to life.

“And that, brother, is the cue to take you the hell home.” Benny sighed, pushing his empty burger basket away. “You’re drunk as Cooter Brown.”

“Who the hell is Cooter Brown?” Dean laughed, watching Ash try desperately not to topple out of his chair by gripping the table. His knuckles were white by the time he stabilized and he was still listing pretty far to the left.

“Dunno.” Benny shrugged, grabbing Ash’s elbow to haul him to his feet. They leaned heavily on each other, swaying dangerously. “My grandad used to say that. Musta been a hell of a drinker though, the way Grandaddy talked about him.”

“Get a cab, you two.” Dean warned.

“Nah, Ashley’s picking us up on her way off her shift.” Benny said.

“Good.”

“I expect updates, Dean! I go a bet to win, here!” Ash hollered, stumbling into the doorframe with a giggle. Benny rolled his eyes and tugged him back upright.

Dean laughed, watching as Benny manhandled the smaller man out into the night. “Night, Cooter Brown!” he called, getting a last wave from Benny.

He trotted back to the bar, snagging Pamela’s table’s empties on the way. He threw the brunette a smile on his way past. As he slid behind the taps he noticed a woman standing at the end of the bar looking a little out of place. She had long, straight red hair and delicate little features. She was dressed in the simple, dark style that said she had money but not the flashy stuff that said she made a big deal of it. Classy chick, for sure. She was staring after Benny and Ash, a thoughtful look on her pretty face.

“Don’t mind him.” Dean said, leaning over the counter and slapping on a charming smile. “He’s feeling a bit sorry for himself so he’s drunker than he should be. Can I get you something?”

She looked up at him, her blue eyes bright and focused. Dean’s smile widened as he realized he was immediately comparing them to Cas’s blue. They were pretty close, actually, that same intensity in the stare. Still not as good, though. Not that he was biased or anything.

“I’m meeting someone,” she said after giving him a thorough once-over. “Perhaps just a glass of white wine?”

Dean threw her a playful salute. “Pino Grigio ok?” He asked, ducking behind the counter for a glass.

“Fine.” She agreed. “Your name is Dean?”

“That’s me.” He agreed, grabbing a bottle from the wine fridge.

“You appear to have an admirer.” She tilted her head at the table of college girls. Dean glanced over to catch the brunette smiling at him. He shrugged, turning his attention back to the redhead.

“Hazards of bartending.” He said.

“She’s very pretty.” The redhead observed, her gaze turning icy as she studied the younger girl. _Catfight_ , thought Dean.

He nodded. “Yep.” He wasn’t really sure why this chick seemed so aggressive about it, but there was no point denying the brunette was good looking.

“You seem like you might be fond of her as well.”

Dean looked at her again, wondering if this was some weird form of flirting he’d never encountered before. The way she stared at him it was hard to tell. “You seem invested.” He grinned, falling back on the playful charm that usually saw him through awkward social encounters. “Any particular reason?”

She paused, her eyebrows rising infinitesimally. “I would hate to see the young lady disappointed.” She said, lifting her glass to her lips.

“You think I’m leading her on?” he asked, laughing.

“It’s possible.” She studied him as she took a sip, her throat working with each swallow.“You seem a very… affectionate person.” Red said, leaning over the counter and flashing white teeth. One finger trailed suggestively along the rim of her glass as she held his eyes. “It would be easy for someone to be drawn to you with no real hope of… how would you say it? Sealing the deal?”

Dean had a sudden vision of Cas’s bunny-ear fingers. Glancing at her hands Dean noted the gold band flashing on her finger, straightening up immediately, all playfulness gone. He did _not_ screw around with married women, even if it was just talk.“Yeah, um, look miss, I should probably mention I don’t really do the whole ‘on-the-side’ thing.” He said, flicking his eyes deliberately to her hand. The redhead blinked, seeming to notice her own wedding ring for the first time.

“Oh?” she said, challenging. She spun the ring with her thumb, as if to demonstrate how loose it was on her manicured finger. Dean tried not to let a frown pinch his face.

“Yeah.” He said, taking a step back. “No judgement or anything, but not really my thing.” He turned to the man beside her, doling out a beer and popping his cash in the register. When he turned back she was still staring at him.

“So you won’t be calling her, then?” she pressed. Still on the other girl, hu? Dean wondered if he’d missed a ring of the brunette’s finger, too. Maybe this shift really was too long.

“Um… no.” Dean said, deciding that any potential tip really wasn’t worth this weird interrogation/flirt. “Like I said, not really into the on-the-side thing, and I’m kind of seeing someone, actually.” He flashed her an apologetic smile, hoping she took the not-so-subtle hint.

“Kind of?” she repeated and Dean sighed. Looked like she wasn’t giving up. “That doesn’t sound like a very strong commitment.”

“Ok,” he huffed, kissing his tip goodbye entirely. He placed his palms down on the counter and looked her dead in her pretty blue eyes. “I’m completely crazy about someone and it’s getting a little embarrassing how into them I am so… you know, not really looking to split up a marriage right now.” He glared at her, frustration boiling under his skin when she actually smiled back.

“Good to hear you’re not trying to pick up _another_ of my siblings, Dean.” Gabriel said, appearing at the redhead’s elbow. “And you,” he added, glaring at her, “you’re as bad as Lucy.”

Red shook out her hair, a snooty tilt in her chin. “You would have me pass up an opportunity to see for myself what kind of man our Castiel is falling for?”

“Woah!” Dean cut in when he could stop his jaw from flapping in the wind. “This is your _sister?_ You’re Anna?”

“Mhmm.” Gabriel agreed, spinning a barstool loudly.

“Dean!” Cas appeared, stumbling against the bar with a wide, gorgeous smile on his face.

“Hey,” Dean grinned back and got lost for a second in the glee snapping in his boyfriend’s eyes. _That_ was the blue Dean was after.

If he’d had any attention to spare he’d have seen a gentle smile spread across the redhead’s face. “Completely crazy about him.” She murmured.

“Dean, this is my sister, Anna.” Cas cast a fond glance at the redhead.

Dean had kind of already gathered that. “I didn’t know she was coming.” Dean said carefully, taking in Gabriel and Cas’s easy stances. They didn’t seem that concerned about her but he couldn’t see Cas not warning him that his sister was coming to town. At the very least Cas would have been too excited to keep it to himself.

Gabriel laughed. “Neither did we. Like I said, just as bad as Lucy.”

“Must be in the genes.” Dean said, drawing a grin from Gabriel.

Dean shot Cas a questioning glance. He remembered how rough Lucifer just showing up had been for Cas, how shaken the kid had been. There was no sign of the heartache that meeting had caused in the kid’s face though. Cas shook his head, his smile growing. Ok, then. So Anna being here was a good thing.

“Well, nice to meet you, then.” Dean nodded at her.

“And you.” Her eyes sparked. “Glad to hear you value your commitments.”

Cas tilted his head at her and Dean rolled his eyes. “A girl slipped me her number.” He explained, pulling the paper from his pocket to show Cas. _Kim_ , it said, with a little heart over the “i”. “Your sister wanted to know if I was going to call.” Cas stared at the little heart like he might be able to set it on fire with his brain. Dean laughed, crumpling the paper and flicking it across the counter to him. “Just part of the job, Cas.” He said. “I was just explaining to your sister that cheating’s not really my thing.”

“And isn’t that refreshing?” Anna murmured, a hard set coming to her face. Dean raised an eyebrow. Looked like another Novak sibling had the whole “mild-mannered exterior but don’t you dare fuck with me or I will end you” thing going on. There was a story there, Dean was sure.

“Glad to hear it.” Cas agreed in a carefully controlled tone.

Dean leaned forward, letting his smile curl out wide. “Jealous again, Cas?” he purred, loving the way Cas’s shoulders were bunching under his jacket. A muscle in Cas’s jaw flickered and Dean ran his tongue over his teeth. “It’s part of the job.” He said. “I flirt a little, get a good tip, that’s it.”

“You make bartending sound pretty close to prostitution, Dean-o.” Gabriel giggled as he helped himself to a sip of his sister’s wine. Cas’s frown deepened.

“Don’t worry about it, Cas.” Dean laughed, ignoring Gabriel entirely. That was usually the best way to deal with the baker. He pulled himself up on his palms, his feet dangling a foot or so off the ground as he leaned over the bar to brush his lips against Cas’s.

“If you say so, Dean.” Cas agreed, softening. With a quick nip to Cas’s chin Dean dropped back onto his boots.

“You want a drink?” Dean asked. “I figure you guys are celebrating?”

“Ginger ale, please.” Cas replied, clearly too excited about Anna being there to hold onto his jealous annoyance. “I thought Anna might enjoy one of Ellen’s burgers.”

“Best in the state.” Dean agreed and flashed the redhead a smile.

“Then I had better try one.” She said. Dean realized he’d just kissed her little brother about half a foot from her face and blushed. Shit. Dean didn’t want to poke at a sore spot between them, namely Cas being gay. But Anna didn’t kick up a fuss, just smiled gently at Cas, watched him watch Dean.

Ok, then.

“And I’ll take one of those dark and stormies.” Gabriel slapped his hand on the bar. “You got me hooked.”

Dean sighed as he cracked open a few ginger ales. “You’re such a girl.” He accused and tried not to think about the last night he’d served Gabe one of those. That was the night of Gabe’s tearful drunken soliloquy (and Dean was blaming Sam’s raging dorkgasms for him even knowing that word). That had been a rough night for everybody. “Anything with sugar and you’re on it like a frigging wasp.”

“Gotta keep up the physique.” Gabriel said, patting his slightly rounded stomach. “Can’t be all stroopwafels and bienenstich 24/7.”

“What and _what?”_ Dean asked, throwing together Gabriel’s drink and watching Cas delicately sip from his straw. _That_ was a little distracting.

“Uncultured swine.” Gabriel sniffed. Anna chuckled, drawing a grin from her older brother. Dean tried hard not to think about the light in Gabriel’s expression. His little sister back with him after what… ten years? Eleven? Ouch.

“So burger for the lady.” Dean said, drawing a nod from Anna. “Cas?”

“Yes please.” Cas nodded. “Medium-rare with pepper-jack.”

“The same for me, please.” Anna murmured.

“Can do.” Dean nodded. “And you, Gabe? Gonna put some _actual_ food in that body for a change?”

Gabriel laughed. “Well, since it’s a special occasion I guess I can handle some protein. Sweet potato fries, though. And honey mustard.”

“Right.” Dean shook his head. “I’ll put the order in. I think there’s a table back there.” He pointed to where Benny and Ash had been sitting. Apparently that was the “friends of Dean” corner tonight. He wasn’t complaining. If he got a good view of his beautifully happy boyfriend for an hour or two then maybe he might survive this shift, aching feet and all.

 

* * * *

 

**Dean: You hanging out with Anna again tonight? - 6:03pm**

 

**Cas: Yes. We’re going to see a play at the university. - 6:06pm**

 

**Dean: Cool - 6:07pm**

 

**Cas: I’m sorry I won’t see you today. - 7:31pm**

 

**Dean: It’s fine, Cas. Have fun with your sister. I know you’ve been missing her. - 7:43pm**

 

**Cas: Thank you, Dean. - 7:45pm**

 

* * * *

 

Dean ran a napkin over his forehead, trying to count the hours until he was free to take a much-needed shower. The Roadhouse had mostly cleared out, just a few butts on barstools and one determined group around the pool table. He felt like he had about a half-inch of fryer grease coating his skin and he definitely smelled like onions. Just an hour and forty-three minutes until he could clock out, then he only had a morning shift at the garage before his big birthday off.

He was counting out the bulk of the register cash so that closing would go faster when the click of high heels on the wood floor caught his ear. Looking up he found Anna Novak staring over the bar at him.

“Oh.” He screwed on a smile he didn’t really have the energy for. “Hi.”

“Hello, Dean.” She said.

“Woah.” He breathed. Well there was the family resemblance he’d missed the other night. No one but Cas had ever said ‘Hello, Dean’ with such intensity before, like maybe his next words were a matter of life or death.

She cocked her head to the side and Dean bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“What can I do for you, Anna?” he asked, crumpling a stray napkin and chucking it in the trashcan. “I hear you and your brothers have been tearing up the town. Glad you guys could patch things up.” Even if he didn’t quite trust it.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other night.” She slid onto an empty stool and crossed her legs elegantly at the knee.

Dean rolled his eyes. “That seems to be a pattern with you Novaks.”

Anna blinked. “Lucifer _apologized_ to you?” It seemed Dean might as well have said Lucifer had stripped naked and taken a shit on the bar the way Anna’s eyes tried to roll out of her head.

“A few times, yeah.” He admitted. Anna just stared.

“Well,” she said finally, “I’m afraid I am a little sensitive on the subject of fidelity. I feared when I saw how… engaging you were with some of your customers that Castiel was putting himself in a position to be hurt.”

Dean peered at her, watching as her thumb ran almost subconsciously over her wedding band. It wasn’t really his place to pry, but he figured he had a pretty good idea of why the thought of him cheating on Cas hit such a sore spot with her. Damn.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he leaned his elbows on the bar, clasping his hands in front of himself.

She inclined her head just slightly. “You may.”

Dean pinched his mouth closed against the snort that threatened to escape. “Cas told me a story, about you taking him to the beach. “ She stared at him, something coming over her expression that Dean couldn’t quite recognize. “He said you pulled him out of school and spent the whole day with him, doing just normal stuff kids do at the shore.”

Anna breathed deeply. Her eyes went glassy, like she was looking out at that shore instead of him.

“Can I ask… why?”

She was silent a long time, so long that Dean began to wonder if he had crossed a serious line. When she finally spoke she looked him dead in the eye.

“There are things we want in life, things we think it isn’t in our power to have. Things we think we must sacrifice for the sake of following the path we pursue.” She paused, swallowed. “When Richard, my husband, proposed, I realized that happiness was going to be one of those things for me.”

Dean flinched. Damn.

Anna shrugged. “I would have comfort, security, the respect of and an ability to influence my community. But happiness, love, that was not going to be a part of my life moving forward.” She sat entirely still, staring at the bar-top without blinking. “Contentment was the best I could hope for. If I’d wanted the rest I would have married Jonah, the first boy I ever loved.” She tilted her head again, considering. “Possibly the last I ever will.” Dean fought the urge to squirm. This was getting heavy as hell but he wanted to know, damnit. That day had mattered to Cas. It was one of the few good stories he had from his childhood as far as Dean could tell. He needed to know why she’d done something that seemed so out of character for her.

“Castiel, he… he is different.” Anna continued. “Good. I didn’t know what kind of life our father had planned for him, but I was determined that whatever came for him, whatever he would have to sacrifice in his life, he should have one happy day. One uncomplicated day.”

Dean stayed silent, watching as she gently stroked her wedding band with the fingers of her other hand. He didn’t think she knew she was doing it.

“Well.” She shook herself and slid gracefully to her feet. “I have a flight to catch in Kansas City. I must go.”

“Is Gabriel driving you?”

Anna shook her head. “No. He offered but he has barely slept since my arrival. I told him to rest while he had the chance.”

“And he listened?” Dean scoffed. Anna flashed a soft smile. “Well. Nice to meet you.” Said Dean, and found that he meant it. She smiled, leaning across the bar to plant a kiss on his cheek. Dean tried not to show his surprise.

“And you.” She agreed. “My brother made his choice between happiness and security. He clearly chose well.” And with that she swept out of the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Stroopwafels - a waffle made from two thin layers of baked dough with a caramel-like syrup filling in the middle  
> * Bienenstich - Bee sting cake. A German dessert made of a sweet yeast dough with a baked-on topping of caramelized almonds and filled with a vanilla custard, Buttercream or cream.  
> I decided Gabriel is on a european kick with his bakery menu. And now I really, really want both of these…


	15. Good For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this chapter has no plot. None, whatsoever. But I hope you enjoy it anyway!  
> As always, feedback is so very much appreciated and I will try to keep working to get new chapters up as quickly as I can.

Dean looked up from the box in his hands to see Cas trotting into the garage. He flung his bag under the coffee bar and made straight for Dean, not even waiting for the older man to stand up before wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Well hello to you, too.” Dean chuckled when Cas backed off. Cas was dressed in an odd mix of clothes, his black dress pants and leather shoes, a pale blue button-up hanging open over a bright yellow t-shirt that read “Save the Clock Tower: Hill Valley Preservation Society”. Dean doubted Cas even got that reference but he didn’t really care at the moment, not when Cas smelled like cinnamon and books and Dean had to resist the urge to push his nose into the curve of Cas’s neck.

“I thought you had the afternoon off?” Cas asked from very close.

Dean nodded. “I did. But Benny called in sick. Since he only does that about once a decade we figure he’s probably mostly dead already so the least I could do was cover his shift.” Cas frowned but Dean was quick to reassure him. “He’s probably just got food poisoning from that gross Thai place he goes with Ashley. I keep telling him to go to my Thai place instead.”

“I’ve missed you, Dean.” Cas’s breath washed across Dean’s face and sent a little shiver up his back.

“Had a good time with Anna?” Dean guessed, trailing his fingers along Cas’s belt. He hadn’t seen Cas since Anna’s unannounced arrival. The kid had taken off his shifts at the garage to spend all his free time with her. Dean understood, obviously, but it had been a little weird not having the guy around for a few days. He felt like he was forgetting something the whole time, just a little twitch at the back of his brain.

“It was wonderful.” Cas agreed, stroking his fingers through Dean’s hair. Damn, Dean had missed that. It was dumb but suddenly it felt like he hadn’t touched Cas in weeks. “But I missed you.” Cas repeated.

“Damn.” Breathed Dean, tilting Cas’s chin up with his fingers and looking at him through drooping eyelashes. “Didn’t really think about it too much until now but god- _damn_ I’ve missed you, too.”

Cas grinned into another kiss. His grip in Dean’s hair tightened, pulling a tiny gasp from Dean’s throat. Dean retaliated with a swift swipe of his tongue, parting Cas’s lips and dragging him down tighter.

“Afternoon, Castiel.” Bobby’s growl broke them apart before Dean could push up into Cas’s arms any further.

“Hello, Bobby.” Cas blushed but didn’t remove his hands from Dean’s head. Dean snorted. Sometimes Cas was adorable as fuck.

“That come in for the firebird?” Bobby asked, nodding to the box forgotten in Dean’s lap.

“Oh, uh, yeah. The callipers.” Dean said, fumbling with the packaging. Cas’s strong fingers on the back of his neck were distracting as hell but Dean wasn’t about to tell him to let go.

“Good. Let’s get that brake setup finished today and call for Zedmore to pick it up.” Bobby grumped. “Get that moron out of my hair.”

“What hair?” Dean grinned.

“Cram it.” Bobby said and slammed his door behind him.

Dean pressed his forehead to Cas’s, drawing in the heat of him. “You know,” he said, “tomorrow’s my birthday.”

Cas hummed, trailing his nose along the side of Dean’s. Seemed like Cas had no qualms about inhaling the smell of Dean after three days apart.

“I was thinking,” Dean continued, “I have tonight off. And Sammy’s got his first speech team meeting. Said he might spend the night at Brady’s after. So it’ll just be me. All alone in that little apartment. On the night before my birthday.”

Cas smiled, one hand wandering aimlessly down Dean’s chest. “I would very much like to come over, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I was kinda getting around to asking that, yeah.” With a quick last kiss Dean pushed to his feet. “But first let’s get this baby up and running and get Zedmore’s car out of here before Bobby kills him.”

Cas rolled up his sleeves. “How can I help?”

By five thirty Dean was about ready to drag Cas into Bobby’s office, kick the old man out and lock the door. Zedmore had made it in and out of the garage without getting Bobby’s boot up his ass - a fucking miracle - and they’d managed to clear a little backlog despite Benny’s absence. Cas had thrown himself into the work, taking on some of the physical stuff since Bobby was trapped doing the monthly order for most of the afternoon. Cas let Dean guide him through bolts and wiring, just nodding along while his hands worked like he’d been doing this for years. Those pretty hands got all grease-stained and his poor yellow shirt covered in sweat. It was all a bit of a problem. Dean struggled to think of anything more than the itch to peel the ruined shirt off him and taste the salt on his skin. Even once Cas remembered to climb into one of the shapeless jumpsuits every time he bent over an engine block Dean’s mouth started watering. And every time Cas slid under a car it was all Dean could do not to grab him by the ankles, yank him back out and climb on top of him. Every once in a while Cas would catch him looking, or Dean would look up to find Cas staring. Every time Cas would just give him a little smile with his blue eyes firing like sparklers and Dean would have to clench his teeth to keep from jumping the kid.

Holy shit, three days seemed like a _year._

“Alright, you idjits had better get out of here while you can.” Bobby told them, slamming the hood on an ancient pickup. “This dinosaur ain’t going anywhere until tomorrow, at least, and I got a feeling if I keep you any longer I’m gonna have to hose you two down.” Cas blushed but Dean grinned. “G’won, get.” The old mechanic shooed them towards the back, flapping his cap at them with a barely concealed smile.

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing Cas’s hand he pulled him over to the sink, pouring some grease-remover into Cas’s hans and showing him how to scrub up. Cas’s soapy fingers sliding along his own skin was putting outrageously dirty thoughts in Dean’s head and when he had rinsed off he tore the towel off the wall and flung it at Cas. Cas had a second to just barely touch it before Dean had grabbed his wrist and started dragging him out into the parking lot. Cas tripped along behind, let himself be shoved up against the driver’s side door of the impala so Dean could pin him there. The kiss was sloppy and eager and ridiculous and Dean loved every fricken second of it. Judging by the grip Cas had on Dean’s shoulders he was loving it too.

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean growled, digging his fingers into Cas’s ribs.

Cas actually laughed at him, a breathless little chuckle, and Dean bit down on his collarbone in response. That cut the laugh off pretty quick. Cas yanked back on Dean’s hair and for a second Dean thought maybe he’d gone a little far, maybe hurt him. He glanced up, guilty, but the fire in Cas’s eyes said the pain was definitely not the problem.

“Get in the car.” Cas ordered, using the hand in Dean’s hair to move him back.

Well hot damn, who was Dean to say no?

They scrambled into their seats, forgetting that they were both still wearing their filthy coveralls, and Dean peeled out. The traffic was tighter than Dean thought he could stand and he ground his teeth as they got caught at stoplight after stoplight. Cas shifted restlessly in the passenger’s seat and stared at Dean the whole way. Dean could feel Cas’s eyes on him, could feel the tension running through Cas’s body, but thankfully the kid kept his hands to himself. Dean was grateful because otherwise he probably would have driven them both right up a lamppost.

They spilled out of the impala in Dean’s driveway and slammed their doors. Dean fumbled with the keys while Cas skidded around the trunk to catch up. By the time they were staggering up the stairs Cas was crowded against Dean’s back and nibbling at his neck like some kind of weird horny chipmunk. Not that Dean was complaining. He jammed the key in the lock and threw open the apartment door, spinning around so his back hit the wall and Cas was plastered all up his front.

“Fuck, Cas.” It seemed like those were the only words his brain was actually capable of making. Luckily, Cas wasn’t doing much better. He groaned as he clawed at Dean’s hips. His teeth worried at Dean’s neck, his shoulders flexing under Dean’s hands.

“Missed you.” He whined. Dean managed a nod, pressing his lips to Cas’s temple as he began to pant. The kid’s hips were doing that goddamn lovely rocking thing, all smooth and sinuous, and Dean let his legs fall apart to let Cas get just that little bit closer. He slipped into the rhythm, hands finding no purchase on Cas’s jumpsuit.

“Off.” Dean growled, plucking at the oil-stained collar. “Get this thing off!”

Cas nodded but instead his hands flew to the zipper of Dean’s jumpsuit, tugging it open to the waist and pushing the material off Dean’s chest. Before Dean could return the favor Cas yanked Dean’s t-shirt up, shoving it into his armpits and pressing up against his bare skin. Cas’s zipper scraped at Dean’s stomach, the rough cloth dragged across his nipples, but god damn if Dean was going to stop him! Dean’s head thumped against the wall as Cas’s lips latched onto his neck again.

“WOAH!”

The sound of Sam’s voice and suddenly Cas was gone. Dean opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - to find his brother standing barefoot in his bedroom doorway with a look of absolute horror on his face. He’d clearly just taken a shower and his dopey hair was dripping all over his t-shirt. Cas pressed up against the opposite wall with a face so red Dean was a little afraid he might burst into flames. Sam wasn’t faring much better, blushing nearly purple.

Still breathing too heavily and suddenly _very_ cold down his chest and belly, Dean shot his brother a vicious glare. “What are _you_ doing here?” he hissed, not bothering to fix his clothes.

Jesus H. Christ, Sam had the worst timing in the freaking world.

“Uhhh…” Sam’s mouth flapped up and down a couple times before his brain came back online. “Speech team meeting was cancelled. They double booked the stage. We’re gonna do it next week.”

“And you didn’t think to text me?” Dean snarled. Not that he’d checked his phone all afternoon anyway.

“Uh.” Sam repeated.

“I apologize, Sam.” Cas said, his voice small and mortified. Immediately Sam’s face softened. He loosened his shocked stance and grabbed his jacket from the back of the recliner.

“No problem, Cas.” He said with exaggerated ease. His eyes were still a little wild but he made a show of relaxing and flashing a cheerful smile. “I was headed out anyway. Brady and I were going to catch a movie.” He slid into his shoes and shrugged on his coat.

“Sam, you don’t have any socks on.” Cas murmured, tilting his head curiously at the half-inch of bare ankle sticking out of Sam’s boots.

“Oh, uh yeah. I loaned Brady some during lacrosse season. Figure I’ll just get them back from him.” He moved for the door, coat still undone as he fished in his pocket for keys.

“It’s quite cold,” Cas was giving him a funny look now, “don’t you want a hat?”

“Nah,” Sam shook his head. “I’m good. My hair will go all weird if I put a hat on when it’s wet. I’m just going to wait for Brady to pick me up downstairs. Get some fresh air. Uh, so you guys… um… have fun.” And with another furious blush he was out the door.

Dean blew out a breath, his hear rate slowly dropping back to normal human levels as he watched Cas stare guiltily at the door. He was trying to think of something to say to wash the embarrassment away when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Shrugging the jumpsuit the rest of the way off his shoulders he pulled his phone from his jeans and swiped his thumb over the screen.

 

**Sam: JESUS CHRITS DEAN!!! YOU COULD HAVE WSRNED ME YOU WERE BRINGNG MY BEST FRIEND HOME TO HUMP LIKE RABBITS!! - 5:54pm**

 

Dean rolled his eyes.

 

**Dean: He’s my BOYFRIEND, Sam. You could have warned me you weren’t going to speech practice. I guess we’re even. - 5:54pm**

 

**Sam: We are so not even close to even! - 5:55pm**

**Sam: You don’t need to bleach the inside of your brain. I do. - 5:55pm**

 

**Dean: We were making out. Calm down, princess. - 5:55pm**

 

**Sam: You were HALF NAKED - 5:56pm**

 

**Dean: Oh grow up. - 5:56pm**

**Dean: Are you really just standing in the hallway waiting for Brady to come rescue you? - 5:57pm**

 

**Sam: Yes. And I will not be returning until tomorrow morning even if I have to sleep in his mom’s garden shed. - 5:57pm**

 

**Dean: Good. - 5:58pm**

 

Dean tossed his phone at the side table and rubbed a hand over his face. When he looked up Cas was watching him.

“We’ve made Sam very uncomfortable, haven’t we?” he said, so mournful Dean had to resist the urge to pat his head like a kicked puppy.

Dean shrugged. “He’ll get over it.” He said, flashing a reassuring smile. “Honestly it’s probably better he was here.”

Cas blinked. “Why?” he asked, and that fucking head-tilt was going to give Dean an actual coronary one day.

Dean chuckled and moved closer. His t-shirt was still up around his chest and Cas’s hands came up automatically to his skin. Dean ghosted his lips over Cas’s, let their noses brush. “Cause if he hadn’t interrupted us I probably would have done something incredibly stupid.” When he kissed Cas this time it was slower. He shoved the horny idiot part of his brain to the back corner and concentrated on being gentle. On making it about Cas, not about Dean’s needy dick. Cas sighed, leaning in and letting the tension of Sam’s surprise presence leak out of him.

After a few minutes Dean pulled back. He smiled at Cas, just barely having to tilt his chin down from this close, and smoothed his hand through Cas’s hair. It stood up where his hand trailed and he resisted the urge to spin it into a little unicorn horn.

“Sorry.” He murmured, offering another quick kiss. “I got a little carried away.”

Cas broke a little smile. “I did, too.” He said, his ears flushing pink again. He reached up to pull Dean’s shirt back down, smoothing it over his stomach in a way that made Dean’s abs twitch.

“Oh yeah?” Dean cocked an eyebrow and squeezed at Cas’s waist. “What were you gonna do, hu?” He tugged gently on Cas’s hand, leading him into the apartment. He shrugged out of his jumpsuit and shimmied it down his hips, kicking it into the corner of the living room before he sat down on the futon. Cas followed suit and Dean clamped down hard on the little voice screaming TAKE IT OFF! in his brain. When Cas glanced at the place beside him Dean shook his head, He reached out, guiding Cas forward until he was kneeling on the futon, straddling Dean’s lap. It was fine, Dean told himself. He wanted Cas closer than just sitting beside one another, wanted to hold him for a while. And he could control himself, damnit.

“There’s so many things I want.” Cas said, not a hint of hesitation despite his blush. He settled comfortably on Dean’s thighs, his hands on the back of Dean’s head again. “I don’t even known how to explain.”

Dean’s heart bounced off his ribs a couple times before he could talk. “Give it a shot.”

“The kissing, obviously.” Cas began, staring straight at Dean when anyone else would have looked away. The girls Dean had dated would have lowered their eyes, or turned away and then flashed him a coy look. It would be all eyelashes and sly smiles. But Cas just knelt there above him, straight and tall and so completely honest about it that Dean was struck a little dumb. “I very much enjoy the kissing. And I would like to do more of that as soon as possible.” Dean snorted. Cas brought his hand to Dean’s cheek, confusion flickering across his face. “But kissing you makes me want to do other things, too.”

Dean swallowed down the urge to grab Cas by the head and kiss him silly - so much for control - and managed to husk, “Like?”

“It makes me think about my mouth.” Cas explained, totally unaware of the lightning bolt those words shot up Dean’s spine, as far as Dean could tell. “And where I’d like to put it on your body.”

It was weirdly stilted and almost technical, but that was so completely _Cas_ that Dean felt himself go all fluttery _._ And in that soot and sandpaper voice, with those eyes locked on him, it was dirty as sin.

“Like where?” Dean didn’t even sound like himself anymore.

Cas swallowed. “Your hands.” He said.

Ok, well that wasn’t really the route Dean’s brain had been heading down. But when Cas lifted Dean’s hand in his, pressing Dean’s index and middle fingers to his lips Dean’s brain fizzled to a halt. Cas’s lips parted just slightly, hot breath bathing Dean’s fingertips as his tongue flashed out. A small damp touch, hot and gone as soon as it was there. _Jesus_.

“Anywhere else?” Dean croaked. Why on earth had he thought pulling Cas into his lap was a good idea?

“Your arms.” Cas nodded. “And shoulders.” He slid his hand up to cup Dean’s elbow, to dig his fingers into the meat over his shoulder blade. “Your stomach and back. And your penis.” He said it almost as an afterthought and Dean burst out into a strangled giggle.

“That’s called a blowjob, Cas.” Dean told him, hardly able to believe this was his life. Just informing his boyfriend casually what the names for sexual acts were. Totally normal.

Cas rolled his eyes. “I’m aware of the term, Dean.” He said. “I’ve lived with Gabriel for nearly a year now.”

“Dude.” Dean wrinkled his nose. “You realize how messed up that sounds, right?”

Cas snorted. “His internet search history is extremely enlightening.” He explained.

Dean laughed. He drew his hand up Cas’s back, the grubby t-shirt bunching under his palm. “You want to give me a blowjob, Cas?” Yup, just a normal conversation. No boners being fought down at all. Cas nodded almost frantically, his eyes nearly glowing. Dean laughed. “I want to do that for you, too, man.” He admitted, proud that it really didn’t feel that ridiculous to say out loud. Of course he wanted to blow Cas. Dean wanted to make him fall to pieces and gasp and see fucking stars. He would make it so damn good for Cas when the time came, make sure that it was everything the guy was waiting for. And he’d damn well make sure Cas liked it enough to let Dean do it again and again and again.

“I like watching you feel me touching you.” Cas said, maybe reading Dean’s thoughts. “I like the way you are with me.”

Dean grinned. “That’s good, Cas.” He said. “Cause I like being with you. I like watching you, too. And as soon as you’re legal we can do all that stuff. I’ll make it good for you, I promise.” He would make so goddamn sure of it.

Cas smiled. “I know.”


	16. Presents and Parley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To make up for the very long break between posts I have decided to gift the readers with some smutty goodness. Not a ton of plot but I hope it’s worth the wait anyway. More coming very soon. Enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: The age inconsistency has been pointed out by a few of you (thanks!) and I've decided to alter it back to Dean turning 22. Sorry for the confusion.

Dean’s birthday started off pretty freaking fantastic.

He woke early with Cas wrapped around him like an octopus, breathing hot air across Dean’s throat. One of Cas’s hands was locked across Dean’s ribs while the other was curled in against his own t-shirt. Cas’s shoulder was shoved up into Dean’s armpit and his cheek rested partly on the pillow and partly on Dean. One leg was a firm weight across both of Dean’s, the soft skin of Cas’s inner thigh sliding over Dean’s knees. The other pressed up to Dean’s so that the top of Cas’s foot was spooning under Dean’s heel. Dean glanced down at his toes poking out from under the sheet and smiled. The sheet was wrapped around them like a giant toga and the blanket was mostly on the floor, but Cas was keeping him plenty warm.

For a while Dean just lay there, slowly stroking Cas’s forearm and thinking about the night before. It had been great. They’d made out a little - ok, a lot - ordered terrible Chinese food and fallen asleep three movies into a Bond marathon. It meant his morning breath was enough to make him gag - hunan spicy beef and no toothbrush had been a bad choice - but that was small potatoes compared to the rest of it. Dean tried to remember the last time he’d enjoyed a movie night with a girlfriend that much. Or greasy take out. Hell, when was the last time he enjoyed making out with anyone that much?

The truth was never, really.

And it was a pretty terrifying truth if he thought too hard about it. Cas was seventeen, as Dean’s brain was incessantly reminding his body. Even if he weren’t years younger than Dean, twenty-two hardly seemed old enough to be making any kind of life-long commitment. He couldn’t even commit to a lease longer than three months. It had been less than six months since he’d even _met_ the guy. But looking down at the spill of black hair across his shoulder, feeling the soft press of Cas’s sleep-slack lips against his neck, Dean was fairly sure this might be it for him.

It was more than the fact that they had fun together. He’d had fun with lots of people. And it was more than the pretty face and the hot body. Dean had run up against plenty of those, too. It was something Dean could barely even describe in his own head, a feeling of _right_ he hadn’t felt in any relationship he’d ever had. As cheesy as it sounded he felt like himself when he was with Cas. More than that, being with Cas made him feel _good._ The way Cas looked at him, so serious and so fond, so confused and so knowing, it made Dean feel like maybe he wasn’t such a fuck-up after all. Like maybe he could really be important to someone and not screw it up. Like maybe forever was something he could have someday.

And the most terrifying part of it all was that he was ok with it. More than ok.

Dean wiggled down a little, turning to face Cas and watch his eyebrows twitch in his sleep. It was sappy and really not that attractive but it was Dean’s birthday, damnit. He could do what he wanted.

He slipped his hand over Cas’s jaw, the stubble grating on his palm as he let his thumb brush a cheekbone.

“Cas.” He murmured. Cas whined, pushing his face into the pillow and grabbing sleepily at Dean’s hips to draw him back in. Dean grinned. “Cas, buddy.”

Blue eyes blinked open, the corners gummed with crud and pinched in annoyance.

 _Goddamnit_ , thought Dean, _this really is it for me._

“Stop talking.” Cas growled, sounding only marginally human as he dragged at Dean’s sides. Dean let himself be guided, chuckling when Cas pulled Dean’s body across him like a quilt. As Dean let his weight settle across Cas’s chest Cas sighed, humming happily into groove of Dean’s shoulder.

“Talking wasn’t really the plan, hotshot.” Dean rumbled, letting his lips trail down Cas’s ear. The body beneath him shivered, Cas’s foot sliding up Dean’s calf. Dean was sure Cas had no plans for anything, no intention on torturing him with the most suggestive possible movements, but as Cas brought his leg up to wrap around Dean’s hip, making space for Dean’s crotch to settle against his Dean felt a muscle in his back nearly snap with the effort of holding himself still.

“Nevermind, I lied.” He groaned. He pushed himself up a bit, balancing on one hand while the other brushed across Cas’s chest, thumb finding a nipple beneath the thin cotton of Cas’s t-shirt. “Do you know what I would be doing to you right now if I could?” Cas’s eyes were clearing, sharpening as his brain and body came online. He stared up at Dean, his fingers tracing the trenches between Dean’s ribs. “If I weren’t such a patient guy waiting for you to turn eighteen?”

Dean dropped a kiss on Cas’s temple and answered his own question. “I would be pulling this shirt off you, pants too, getting you naked before you even knew where you were. I’d kiss you awake and let you grind into me, let our dicks slide together until you were making the best sounds.”

Dirty talk was not Dean’s strongest suit. It always felt so ridiculous. But he was frustrated and horny and if Cas’s expression was anything to go by he was eating this up.

“I’d kiss my way down to your cock, but I’d make sure these got plenty of attention on the way.” He dug his thumbnail into Cas’s nipple lightly, biting his lip when Cas whined and arched into it. “I’d take your dick in my mouth as far as I could, let you put your hands in my hair ‘cause I know you love it.”

Cas was panting now and Dean wasn’t even trying to hide the erection pressing down into Cas’s belly. Cas’s fingers tunnelled into Dean’s hair and gripped hard. “You could do whatever you wanted to me. You could pull and thrust, I could handle it. I’d tell you how much I liked your legs wrapped around my head.” He dropped more of his weight back onto Cas, pinning him down. “I’d make you twist and writhe and _scream_ for me, Cas.” He whispered against Cas’s chin, almost too close to see the lightning in Cas’s eyes. “You think I could do it?”

Cas nodded and clutched at Dean’s bicep. “Yes.” He breathed, all sleep-rough and gravelly. Dean fastened his lips on Cas’s neck and sucked, lathing the skin with his tongue as Cas groaned. He tried to roll his hips up into Dean’s but Dean lifted himself away. He bit down instead, sparks sizzling through his brain as Cas cried out.

“I’d make you cum for me.” Dean promised and bit down again.

“ _Dean_.” Pleaded Cas.

With one last lick to the quickly darkening bruise he’d raised Dean sat up, coming to his knees between Cas’s legs. Cas blinked up at him, his dick tenting the sleep pants he was borrowing and his chest still heaving.

“That’s what I _would_ be doing, Cas.” He said cheerfully. “You know, if I weren’t such a decent guy and all.”

Dean grinned down at him, watched him go from dazed to thunderous over a three-second span. If looks could kill Dean was pretty sure he’d be a charred pile of bones on the end of the futon. He laughed as Cas swarmed up into his arms. Strong hands locked against the back of Dean’s head, pulling him into a crushing kiss that was more teeth and tongue than anything. Cas actually growled into his mouth, nipping at Dean’s lips.

“I want that, Dean.” Husked Cas, “I’ll be sure to remind you of it as soon as my age is no longer an issue.”

Dean squeaked as suddenly there was a hand on his cock. Just a quick squeeze - torture, torture, torture - before Cas sat back, practically throwing Dean away from him. Dean windmilled and landed on his butt, a laugh startled out of him as he took in his boyfriend’s epic pout. God he wanted to suck on that bottom lip for a while longer, but he knew he’d reached his limit.

“And I am going to go get in the shower.” Dean chuckled, adjusting himself not-so-subtly as he stood. “Cause your age is still an issue and I just painted myself into a corner.” He stretched and stepped into the square of sunlight the window was throwing up the wall. He hummed and dragged a hand across his belly as the delicious warmth washed over his torso. God, he was hard as a rock.

Cas made a little noise and Dean glanced back at him. He was flopped back against this pillows, his eyes closed as his hands pushed at the waistband of his pants. Oh shit, was he going to…? Cas’s sigh as his hand slipped under the fabric and closed on his own dick was just about enough to make Dean’s head explode. Then those blue eyes cracked open and shot a bolt of heat straight through Dean’s gut as they locked on him, needy and feverish and oh _fuck._

Leaving every trace of dignity behind Dean threw himself into the bathroom and slammed the door. He wrenched the tap on and let the drum of water in the tub drown out Cas’s breathless laughter. He sat on the toilet lid, ripped off his pants and took his dick in hand. It took about four rough strokes before he was coming all over his fist and thigh. He didn’t bother to conceal the coughing cries that burst out of him with the first load of cum; let Cas taste a little of his own medicine.

Oh damn, the thought of Cas _tasting_ pulled another groan from Dean. He whimpered and slumped, slowing his hand as the last twitches worked their way through him.

Yeah, twenty-two was looking like it was going to be a good year.

 

* * * * *

 

By the time Sam appeared Cas and Dean had had breakfast and Cas was dressed for school. He’d taken to leaving a few items of clothing at the Winchester apartment, just a couple clean shirts and pairs of boxer briefs for nights he fell asleep studying with Sam or snuggling with Dean. It amazed Cas a bit that Gabriel trusted both him and the Winchesters enough to let him stay over without advanced notice. Having never, ever, been allowed to stay the night at a friend’s house - not that he’d had any friends at whose houses he might have stayed - Cas hadn’t really expected to be allowed to stay at a boyfriend’s house. Yet here he was, eating cheap cereal and drinking terrible coffee with Dean in the early winter sunshine.

Dean’s text alert sounded as Cas was washing out their bowls and Dean pulled his phone from his back pocket. Cas watched him read the screen, the roll of Dean’s eyes and his easy smile sending a tumble of warmth through Cas’s chest. Dean shoved the phone away and went to the door, banging on it with one fist.

“We’re decent, you can come in, you big girl!” he hollered.

When Sam strolled in his head was high and his expression lofty. “Good morning, Cas.” He said with exaggerated casualness.

“Good morning, Sam.” Cas replied, trying to hide a smile. He did still feel a bit guilty about making his friend so uncomfortable the night before but Dean had reassured him that Sam wouldn’t be upset about it for long. The fact that Sam was able to look him in the eye this morning was definitely an improvement.

“And happy birthday, jerk.” Sam grinned, slapping a box down on the counter. It was from Reynard’s and Castiel could smell a confusing mixture of bacon and sugar wafting up out of the patterned cardboard.

“Oo, Sammy, you treat me so good!” Dean crooned, rushing over to flip the lid open. His eyes went wide and he licked his lips, pulling a doughnut up to inspect.

“Gabriel is trying out maple glazed bacon doughnuts.” Sam told him. “There’s six of those and six double chocolate coffee cream.” The noise Dean made as he shoved half the doughnut in his mouth made Sam snicker and Cas flush red to his toes. Dean chewed happily, humming to himself as flakes of glaze drifted down the front of his t-shirt. “Brady swung by Reynard’s on the way.” Sam continued. He disappeared into his room. A few moments of scuffling and he came out, dressing in clean clothes with his hair in a frizzy mess.

“So what’s up for birthday fun?” he asked, smoothing his hands over his head. He reached for a doughnut but Dean slapped the box shut, glaring at him with crumbs trickling from the corners of his mouth. Sam snorted. “Dean, _I brought them_.”

“For _my_ birthday.” Dean retorted, spraying flakes of glaze. Cas rolled his eyes as the brothers tussled over the box, Dean hooking his palm under Sam’s chin to shove his head toward the ceiling.

“Is Jo picking us up?” Cas asked, gathering his things. One more day of school before the weekend and he desperately wanted to skip it to spend the day with Dean. But he knew he shouldn’t, so he checked that all his books were still in his bag and slipped his shoes on.

“Nah, Brady’s waiting downstairs.” Sam said, giving up on the struggle and shouldering his bag. “He’s got plenty of room for you, Cas. And Dean, that means you get the rest of the morning alone with your doughnuts.”

“Pretty good present, Sammy.” Dean said, shoving the rest of the doughnut in his mouth.

“Oh, no! Those are from Gabriel.” Sam said, digging an envelope out of his pocket and chucking it at his brother. “I was hoping my present would be in by now but Bobby said no luck. Gonna have to make do with a picture until it shows up.”

Dean frowned, wiping his sticky fingers on his shirt and turning the envelope over in his hands. “Where’d you get the money for this?” he asked.

“Did a few repairs on Brady’s mom’s car.” Sam replied. “Simple stuff. Oil change and a brake light, that kind of thing. And Ellen paid me for cleaning out her gutters a few times, painting that upstairs bathroom and weatherproofing the basement for winter.”

“Jeez, Sam.” Dean groaned, turning the envelope over in his sticky hands. “You’re supposed to be putting that money towards school.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, well.” He shuffled, gathering up a notebook and his laptop from the kitchen counter. “I’m looking into scholarships and I’ve got a pretty good shot, even with… you know.” He scratched at the back of his neck as Dean looked at him sharply. “And Chuck said he’d write me a recommendation if I finish out the year strong. Coach Lincoln, too.”

“But-“

“Just take the damn present.” Sam growled. He fixed his brother with a hard stare. “Do me a favor, Dean.” Dean straightened, his eyes sparking as he looked at his little brother. Castiel had noticed this from time to time, these codes. The words that one brother said would hit the other with more weight than they should have, simple phrases striking one of them dumb for a moment and changing the whole tone of the conversation. Castiel suspected these words had deeper meanings, secret messages passed between the two of them to avoid saying more difficult things.

Without another word Dean ripped open the envelope, pulling out a little slip of paper that looked to have been clipped from a magazine.

“Damn, Sammy!” Dean smiled, “I needed this. The old one really hasn’t worked right since… you know. Since then.”

“I know. And… that car means a lot to me, too, you know.” Sam said softly, his eyes drifting to the window that overlooked the driveway. The impala wasn’t visible from here, but Sam smiled in its direction. “Kinda figure I owe her.”

Dean sniffed. Cas didn’t want to be nosey, but he couldn’t help straining over Dean’s elbow to get a look at the scrap of paper. It was a picture from one of the auto magazines that lined Bobby’s office, a large rectangle of copper slats with a few tubes sticking out one end.

“It’s a heater core.” Dean explained, moving the picture so Cas could see it more fully. “You’ve seen how the heater craps out randomly? It’s been doing that since the crash. I thought I might get away without replacing it cause they can get a little pricey. But it’s toast.” Dean looked up, his eyes a little more watery than usual. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam’s smile was nearly blinding. “Happy birthday, Jerk!”

A car horn blared outside, breaking the little moment that settled between the brothers. Sam glanced at the window and huffed. “We’d better go before we make Brady late for homeroom.” He chuckled, punching Dean’s shoulder lightly on his way past. “See you tonight.”

“See ya, Sammy. Bye, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean.” Cas smiled and followed Sam out the door. They tramped down the frigid stairs, the pleased pride wafting off Sam like perfume. Cas smiled, glad that Sam had managed to find a present Dean would accept.

Brady’s little red sports car was waiting in the street, its engine humming softly and the stereo bass thumping. As Sam opened the passenger door a raging wall of guitar and drum hit Cas and he paused. It wasn’t like Dean’s music, but faster and somehow thinner, electronic tones making up much of the background. Cas decided as he slid into the back seat that Dean’s music taste was far superior. He didn’t mention it, though, but gave Brady a pleasant greeting and buckled his seat belt.

Despite Sam’s close friendship with him and the fact that Brady and Cas were in the same grade, Castiel barely knew the boy. He’d seen him in passing when waiting for Sam at lacrosse practice, and gotten a familiar sort of chin nod from him once or twice in the hallway if they happened to catch eyes. But Castiel was fairly sure that the two or three sentences they’d exchanged the night of Brady’s victory party were the only they’d actually ever spoken to one another.

“So Castiel,” Brady said, glancing in the rear-view mirror. His sandy blond hair was coifed back into a neat swoop and his perfectly neat shirt was open at the collar. “I hear you’re dating Dean?” he said it like a question, so Cas nodded.

“I am.” He replied simply. Brady shook his head with a dark little laugh.

“That’s… surprising.” He said. Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat and flashed Cas a look in the rearview. Cas only smiled.

“It was a surprise to me as well.” He admitted.

“I never would have pegged him.” Brady laughed.

Sam’s face was strained but Castiel found he didn’t particularly care what Brady thought. He didn’t sense malice, just surprise.

“Pegged him as?” Cas inquired mildly.

“Oh.” Brady flushed a bit, seeming to realize that he might have put his foot in it, as Bobby would say. “Um… just… gay.” He laughed nervously. “You know, he’s always been such a ladies’ man.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I’m all too aware of that.” He sighed, a tiny frizz of jealousy riding up his spine. It was dampened fairly drastically by the memory of his morning with Dean, but not entirely gone. “And it’s no surprise you would not have thought he was homosexual, as he is, in fact, bisexual.”

Brady made a small sort of choking noise. “Right.”

Silence reigned in the car for a solid minute before Brady made another attempt at conversation. “You, uh, you play any sports, Castiel?”

“Fencing.” Sam supplied tightly.

“Oh!” Brady brightened, flashing a toothy smile at Cas in the mirror. “What kind of training you do for that? Cardio? It’s a speed sport, right?”

Cas took the change of subject in stride, allowing the tension to diffuse. “Fencing is mainly about short bursts of speed, dexterity, and flexibility.”

“Oh.” Brady nodded. “So probably a lot of yoga, pilates?”

“Those are certainly helpful.” Cas agreed. “You’re looking for a mixture of speed and stamina so often fencers will play other sports as well to build up strength. Many fencers using dancing as a way to keep their feet quick. I took martial arts lessons because it was a very complete workout.”

“Oh, I’ve heard karate and stuff is a great way to build muscle without bulking up.” Brady said. He launched into an excited talk about all the training he had implemented for the lacrosse team in his years as captain, about the training program the college he would attend next fall had in place for its team. He had been accepted early decision and offered a place on their team. Sam slowly relaxed, his shoulders melting back against the seat.

Castiel listened, chipping in here and there when he had something relevant to add, and the rest of the ride to school passed without incident. When they pulled into the school lot they all unfolded themselves from the little car and Brady threw Castiel a smile and a high five.

“Good talking to you, bro.” He beamed, “Let me know if you like those protein shakes.”

“I will.” Castiel agreed, even though he had no intention of trying the recipe Brady had given him in such detail. He’d at least learned a few manners in the last few months. Sam flashed him a grin and walked ahead with Brady, talking animatedly about a television show they’d watched the night before.

Cas walked a bit slower, the cold sinking through his coat as he crossed the mostly-deserted parking lot and ambled up the little path toward the lobby doors. He couldn’t help but let his mind drift back over the morning’s events. Dean’s arched back in the sunlight, his smile glinting inches from Cas’s face, his hands…

He was snatched from the warm glow by a pair of rough hands at his collar, yanking him off the path into the frost-tipped bushes. Immediately he spun, throwing the weight of his bag against the chest of his attacker. A startled grunt and the hands released him, letting him come into a defensive stance with his hands up to guard his face.

Kennedy stood facing him, his arms swaying warily at his sides as he glared. A quick glance around showed no other enemies in sight, but Castiel didn’t for a second think that meant he wasn’t in danger. Kennedy had proven himself ruthless before, and stronger even than he looked. Cas was about to call out - Sam and Brady weren’t that far ahead - but Kennedy held up his empty hands, a strained expression on his face.

“Woah, there, Android.” He growled, his voice devoid of its usual aggression.

“What do you want, Kennedy?” Cas demanded. He made sure to speak loudly, hoping Sam and Brady might hear him anyway.

“I…” Kennedy stalled and his mouth pinched. He looked like he was sucking on a lemon as he forced himself to continue. “I was gonna die.” He grated.

Castiel blinked, his hands dropping slightly. “Excuse me?”

“I was gonna die.” Kennedy repeated, his whole face flushing an ugly purple. “I was in the hospital for a whole day.”

Cas let his arms drop the rest of the way, finally realizing what Kennedy was talking about. The night of the party, weeks and weeks ago, when he’d found Kennedy in the bathroom slumped over the toilet. He’d told Rigby his friend needed medical attention and Kennedy had gotten it.

“Oh.” He said. “Yes. Alcohol poisoning?”

Kennedy grunted an affirmative. “Mark, he said you told him to come get me.”

It took Cas a moment to recognize Rigby’s first name, but he finally nodded. “You were… a bit hostile towards me.” He recalled, thinking of Kennedy’s evil chuckle and his assurance that Rigby would ‘cut’ him. “I was concerned you would injure one of us if I tried to help you. So I found your friends instead.”

Kennedy’s glare returned with renewed heat. “Why?” he demanded.

Cas blinked again. “What?”

“Why’d you stick your nose in?”

Cas tilted his head in confusion. “What else would I do?”

“I don’t know,” snarled Kennedy, “leave me the fuck alone?”

Cas scoffed. “Would you rather I had left you to die with your face in a toilet?” Kennedy flushed darker, his eyes darting away and Castiel realized the boy really was asking a serious question. He didn’t understand. He’d tormented Castiel for months. And yes, Cas had managed to hurt Kennedy fairly badly in return from time to time. Kennedy couldn’t seem to fathom why someone he viewed as an enemy would do anything to help him, even in such a dire situation. It struck Cas as quite sad, really.

Cas took a deep breath and straightened to his full height. “I don’t like you, Alex Kennedy.” He said plainly. “You’ve hurt me time and again without provocation. I find your attitude towards homosexuality disgusting and the glee you take in inflicting pain on others repulsive.” Kennedy’s eyes bulged with rage but he didn’t interrupt. “But that didn’t matter. It was clear you needed help.”

It was Kennedy’s turn for a surprised blink.

When the stocky boy only stared at him Cas rolled his eyes. “It’s true I would like to change your views. And failing that I would prefer to never see you again, to never have to defend myself from your inane and completely pointless attacks in the future, but I don’t want you _dead_.”

Kennedy just kept on staring.

“I had no ulterior motive, if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t expect anything from you in return or plan to use the fact that you were drinking under the age of twenty-one against you in any way.”

Kennedy snorted. “You really are an android.”

Cas shrugged. “If that’s all you had to say, I’m going to be late for class.” He hitched his bag up over his shoulder and turned away, but before he could get back to the path the hand was back at his collar. Cas shook him off, readying for a punch that didn’t come. Kennedy glowered at him, sucking at his cheeks like he was in actual pain.

Cas waited, watching as Kennedy struggled to speak.

“Thanks.” He finally hissed past his clenched teeth. Before Cas could respond Kennedy shoved past him, nearly knocking Cas on his backside as he marched off towards the lobby grumbling to himself.

Cas watched him go, a little dumbfounded. He clambered back onto the path and brushed the leaves from his coat, wondering if something significant had just happened. He doubted it. As he pushed through the main doors and joined the stragglers headed towards class, Cas told himself to remember that the next time he saw Kennedy, it would most likely be with the other boy’s knuckles leading.


	17. Take Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I know I’ve been MIA for a long, long time, but work has been absolutely brutal lately. To make up for it I’ve laid on the schmoop pretty thick in this chapter. I’m trying to take some time as the holidays come around to work on this and my other fic on this site and hopefully there will be a few updates before the new year for everyone. As always, thanks for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy!

“Cas, buddy.” Dean stifled a laugh as he nudged Cas harder. Cas made a dissatisfied little noise and turned his head toward the window. He buried his chin down deeper in his scarf, trying to escape from Dean’s hand and voice. “Come on, man. Wake up.”

Sam snickered from the passenger’s seat and Dean flashed him a grin. It was past one in the morning and Ellen had fed them enough for a small army, so it wasn’t that surprising Cas was out for the count. Steaks and mashed potatoes, green beans and rolls, a massive salad that Sam had nearly downed on his own, and a special birthday pie (classic cherry) from her mom’s recipe, it had been a freaking feast. After they’d all stuffed themselves nearly to bursting they’d forced a few presents on Dean. Ellen and Bobby each gave him a second-hand Vonnegut he didn’t own yet (though he’d already read them a few times), a set of mix-tapes and a DVD of _Bullitt_ from Jo, and Ash had brought a case of beer and tray of pralines that Benny’d sent in his absence. The big mechanic was still too sick to make it out of bed, Ash told them. Ash drank a few of the beers and ate two pralines before Dean loaded it all in the car, calling it a birthday tax. Cas had blushed and admitted he’d left Dean’s gift behind and would have to give it to him later. Ash had made disgusting kiss-faces until Dean felt compelled to twist his scrawny arm up behind his back until he promised to knock it off. By the time the evening wore down and the credits were running on _Bullitt,_ pretty much everyone had been asleep and draped across some surface of Ellen’s living room - except Ellen and Bobby because Dean was pretty sure those two never slept.

“Cas!” Dean leaned as far over the seat as he could and poked Cas sharply in the ribs, drawing a grunt as Cas finally blinked his blurry eyes open. “You’re home, Cas.”

Cas poked his chin out and frowned, peering out the window. When he recognized where they were he growled, “Oh. Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem, man.” Dean smiled. Cas stretched, his neck arching back over his shoulders to bare the stubbled softness of his throat as his hands dug into the leather seat.

Well, shit.

In a sudden burst of chivalry Dean popped his seatbelt off and slid out of the car to pull Cas’s door open for him. Cas looked up at him with his mouth quirking up at the corners and put one hand over Dean’s on the door and the other on the lapel of his leather jacket. He hauled himself up, climbing Dean like some sort of flannel-wrapped tree until their noses were brushing. Dean ignored Sam’s snort from the front seat as Cas’s lips slid against his own. It was too sleep-melted and soft to be a real kiss but Dean felt it in his toes anyway.

“Happy birthday, Dean.” Cas mumbled.

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean’s teeth bumped Cas’s lips as he grinned.

“Get a room.” Sam chided through a yawn of his own.

Dean flicked him the finger and dragged Cas in for another kiss. Cas’s nose was quickly cooling against Dean’s cheek and Dean’s ass was about to go numb from the cold when they broke apart again.

“Would you,” Cas cleared some of the gravel from his throat and tried again. “Would you like your present now? I left it in my bedroom.”

Dean’s brain very helpfully provided some cheesy seventies porn music and Cas kicked him lightly in the shin.

“Don’t.” He warned, a pretty blush flooding up his face.

“Yeah, Cas.” Dean chuckled. “Should I come up?”

“If Sam doesn’t mind.” Cas nodded, leaning around to raise a sleepy eyebrow at Sam.

Sam flapped a hand at them and yawned. “Go for it. I’m keeping the heater on though.” Dean rolled his eyes and shut his door. They trotted across the deserted street, Cas’s key slipping in the lock. When they reached the top of the narrow stairway Dean could hear some obnoxious electro-pop leaking under the door.

“Gabriel’s home.” Cas warned.

“Figured.”

A wash of warm, ginger-bread scented air rolled over them as they spilled into the apartment. A short, fat tree was tucked into the corner, absolutely dripping with tinsel and lights. Gabriel was sitting on the couch, alongside a gorgeous brunette in tight red dress that left her long, caramel legs bare. Dean did a little double-take when she turned her huge almond eyes - highlighted with a thick black cat-eye - on him.

“Woah.” He breathed. She was a freaking stunner. Her blood-red lips twitched toward a smile and she tilted her wine glass at him. Cas jabbed an elbow into his ribs and he jumped guiltily.

“Sorry to interrupt, Gabriel.” Cas murmured and Dean snaked an arm around his waist.

“No prob, little bro.” Gabriel beamed over a big mug of hot chocolate (complete with whipped cream, chocolate curls, and a cinnamon stick). “We hadn’t gotten down to the dirty stuff yet. You remember Kali.”

“I do.” Cas nodded, his smile a little tense. Dean chuckled. That goddamn jealous streak was going to lead to some crazy make-up sex in the future.

“I’m Cas’s boyfriend, Dean.” He introduced himself, dragging Cas closer by the hip. Cas shot him a pleased little glance and Kali’s smile widened. Her teeth were very sharp and very white.

“Pleased to meet you, Dean.” She drawled in a British accent.

“Likewise.” Dean smiled, steering Cas towards his bedroom. “We’ll leave you two to the whipped cream. Just here to get my birthday present and then I’ll be off.”

“Should we turn the music up for cover?” Kali asked, dipping a manicured pinkie into Gabe’s mug and sucking the cream off.

Cas blushed and Dean laughed. “Probably not a bad idea.” Dean winked. Kali laughed a sinister little laugh as Cas’s bedroom door swung shut behind them.

Cas was still red as a tomato and Dean pulled him in to place a quick kiss on his forehead. “So where’s my present?” he asked. Cas broke away, shuffling toward the dresser where a big package was wrapped in bright blue paper. It looked like he’d stuck a whole pack of paper bows on it and when Dean grinned at him Cas shrugged.

“It looked very strange with just one little one.” He explained, handing it over.

Dean chuckled and set it down on the edge of Cas’s bed. Plucking the first bow off and twirling in his fingers. Before Cas could stop him he reached over and smacked it down into Cas’s hair, the tape sticking it to the top of his head. Cas rolled his eyes up - trying to see the top of his own head, apparently - and Dean chuckled.

“Thanks, Cas.” He said, ripping into the paper without bothering with the rest of the dozen or so bows. The cardboard box underneath was stamped with a big block letter that Dean read with growing skepticism. “Dude, you got me eighty pounds of bittersweet chocolate?” he laughed.

Cas rolled his eyes. “No, Dean. That was just a box I borrowed from the bakery.”

Dean lifted it, twirling it easily by it’s corners. The bulk of it didn’t seem to move inside. “I was going to say; doesn’t really feel like eighty pounds of anything. And if you’d eaten all my birthday chocolate I’d have been pissed.”

“Eighty pounds of bittersweet chocolate likely contains more than a fatal dose of theobromine for a human, Dean.” Cas informed him.

“Not a bad way to go.” Dean smiled, dropping the box back on the bed. He wasn’t sure what theobromine was but death by chocolate sounded pretty ok. “So no chocolate for me, hu? What’s in here then?”

“Open it.” Cas offered, amused.

Dean slid his thumbnail through the tape and tore open the box. “You got me…” He poked his finger into the poofy white curve popping out of the box, “a giant marshmallow?”

Cas sighed. “How are you still thinking of food after everything you ate tonight?”

Dean was too busy hauling his present out of the box to answer. It spilled out over his lap, down his legs to drape across the floor. “It’s a comforter?” When he looked up Cas was blushing furiously again.

“It’s down. I know…” Cas swallowed and tried again, backing up so he could rest the heels of his hands on the dresser. “Sam has one like it on his bed.” He explained.

Dean nodded. “I picked it up at going out of business sale a few years ago when we got the apartment.” 

“You wanted to make it a home for him, he said.” Cas murmured. “So he got the comforter. And you got a blanket.”

“I like that blanket.” Dean shrugged.

Cas ignored him. “Sam got the bed, you got the futon.”

“Sam’s like a mile long! He wouldn’t fit on a futon.”

“And Sam got the bedroom.”

Dean could feel his chin begin to stick out defensively. “He needed a place for all his nerd books so they wouldn’t be all in the way.”

“And Sam doesn’t have a job. You have two.”

“He’s taking like a million classes!”

“Dean.” Cas looked up, stepping forward and letting his fingers drift along Dean’s stiff jaw. “I just… you deserve a comforter. You deserve a home, too.”

Dean froze, staring.

Cas knelt, his knees dimpling the comforter as he stared up into Dean’s face. “I know you dislike… emotional displays. And I don’t know how to… how to make this easier on you. But you take care of Sam. You take care of Bobby.”

Dean snorted; he was pretty sure the old bastard would say it was the other way around. Cas shook his head, reading Dean’s face.

“I’ve seen you. You lift the heavy things before he has a chance. You dump out his coffee when it’s too old and he would keep drinking it anyway. You do it without even noticing. You are the same with Ellen. And Jo. And everyone you care about. You take care of everyone, Dean. Even people you barely know. You’d spoken to me, what, three times when you stopped to drive me to the hospital that day?”

Now it was Dean blushing. “What was I gonna do?” he grunted. “Let you bleed to death on the sidewalk?”

Cas shook his head. “You would never. You stayed with me the whole time, talked to me. You drove me to your home, let me stay. You took care of me. When my father… when Lucifer came, you took care of me. You take care of everyone, Dean. Except you.”

Dean’s throat was closing over. If it had been anyone else he’d have thrown the stupid comforter over their head and walked out. Or made some crude joke about just how someone could take care of him. But this was Cas, staring at him with eyes empty of pity, judgement, or pain.

“I just…” Cas swallowed. Sounded like Dean wasn’t the only one whose throat was too tight. “I wanted to give you something… to let you keep a little of what you give away so easily. I hope… I hope you will let me.”

Dean didn’t know what to say. Luckily, Cas never seemed to mind his inability to string two words that meant anything together. So instead of trying to stumble through a thank-you that he would probably screw up spectacularly he placed his hand over Cas’s where it rested on his face. He leaned forward, letting their foreheads bump and his eyes close. He could hear Cas let out a breath, could feel his face curling into a smile. Dean pushed forward, tasting that smile, saying thank you the only way he could.

Cas’s lips were gentle, soothing, but suddenly Dean was frantic. Cas. He needed Cas. He pulled Cas up, shoved the box onto the ground and fell back onto the bed. Cas rose, letting Dean blanket himself with Cas’s body, his hands so light they made Dean ache. The damn comforter was trapped between them, spread over Dean’s legs and halfway up his chest. Dean pulled at Cas’s shoulders, rolled his hips up beneath the comforter to try and bring them closer. He needed Cas. He needed grasping fingers and stuttering breath. He was going to fly apart without it. But Cas refused to be caught up in Dean’s energy. He stayed soft. He stayed calm. Instead of teeth and fire and Cas was cool water washing over him. He let his lips drift softly up Dean’s cheek, placing a soft kiss to his eyelid. Dean whimpered. Cas kiss his forehead, his ears, each kiss more gentle than the one before. By the time he worked his way back to Dean’s lips Dean was shaking like a damn leaf.

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas sighed, trailing his thumb over Dean’s cheek.

“Dude.” Dean choked. “What are you thanking me for?”

Cas just smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth. “You had better go, before Sam uses up all the gas in your car to keep from freezing.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah.”

They sat up and Dean gathered the comforter up into his arms. It smelled like Cas’s laundry detergent. Cas helped him fold it up into the box and pulled him to his feet.

“Happy Birthday, Dean.” He said, and kissed him again. Dean’s smile was tenuous.

“Thank, Cas. Get some sleep, yeah?”

Cas tried to stifle a yawn as he nodded. “Of course.”

Dean left him there and pushed out into the main room, glad to see that Kali and Gabe were tucked in the kitchen area, pouring her another glass of wine. He got away with a little wave and slipped out into the hall. It was cold as balls out and as he shoved the box into the back seat and slammed the door, jolting Sam awake.

“Jesus.” Sam muttered as Dean slid into the driver’s seat, wrapping his hands around the familiar leather of the steering wheel. “You get your present?”

“Yeah. Hey, uhh, Sammy?” he muttered, staring at the dim light filtering through Gabriel’s shades.

“Yeah?” Sam rolled his head backward and let his eyes fall shut.

“I guess… I don’t know.” Dean stumbled, gripping the wheel a little tighter. It was so quiet, so calm. He was full and happy and warm in a way that would last for days. This was the only time he was ever going to get the words out. He swallowed the brick threatening to block his airway and stared straight out the windshield. “I guess I never said it, but thanks for being cool with this. With me’n Cas.”

Sam didn’t move but Dean saw one eye crack open to peer at him.

“I…I don’t know what, you know, would’ve happened with us if you… um. If you weren’t.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Sam rasped and Dean could swear he was hiding a smile. “He was my friend first, remember?”

Goddamnit. He was going to make Dean say everything.

“I mean,” he growled, “I know no one seems to be all that surprised that I’m into dudes too. But… I’m your big brother. I thought maybe… it would be… weird for you.”

After a minute Sam snorted, just a soft exhalation in the complete silence of the car. “Because your autographed boxed set of _Dr. Sexy_ didn’t tip me off or anything.”

“Oh screw you, bitch.” Dean scoffed and threw the car into drive.

“Jerk.” Sam mumbled, sinking back against the window and closing his eyes again.

They drove in silence, the dark street of Lawrence shining in the street lamps. Sam’s breath huffed against the window, spreading clouds of frost as he slept. Dean remembered the black ice warnings they’d been playing all afternoon on the radio and kept well below the speed limit, so it was nearly two when he swung his baby neatly into their narrow driveway. He turned off the engine and sat back, looking across at his stupid gargantuan baby brother.

He’d meant it. If Sam had balked, even raised an eyebrow at the idea of Dean dating a man Dean would have chickened out. He’d have laughed it off and buried it so deep it would never see sunlight again. He didn’t care what John thought anymore, would fight his friends with actual fists if he had to, but he couldn’t have stood to disappoint Sam. Not when he’d only gotten him back. He couldn’t lose that tiny shred of respect Sam had somehow held on to for him after all the shit they’d done to each other. It wouldn’t have mattered how much he liked Cas, how much the kid liked him, or how much it would have hurt to push all that aside. If Sam hadn’t been okay with it Dean would have shut it down.

In fact, without Sam it probably wouldn’t have happened at all. He’d been the one to pull Dean’s head out of his ass and make him apologize to Cas. Without Sam Dean would probably still be pretending that first kiss was a joke and he and Cas would probably barely talk to each other. Sam was definitely to thank for sorting out that mess.

Well. Now Dean had said thanks and that was that. Time to return to the regularly scheduled programming. As quietly as he could he reached into his pocket for the poppers Ash had brought. Dean had stashed a few of them, counting on a moment like this in the next few days to make it worthwhile. He unbuckled, leaning across the bench seat until he was inches from Sam’s face. Then, as any good big brother would, he took one last look at his little brother’s peacefully snoozing face - all slack and stupid-looking - and yanked the cords. Confetti and gunpowder filled the car, the sharp snap of the capsules joined a second later by Sam’s indignant shout as he nearly threw himself through the windshield in panic.

After a full three seconds of looking like he expected a demon to come flying out of the AC unit Sam caught Dean’s grin and slumped back against the seat, breathing hard. “DEAN!” he hollered, punching his brother in the shoulder.

Dean laughed. “Happy My Birthday to you, Sammy boy!” he crowed, slapping Sam’s chest. “Now let’s get inside before you wake up the whole neighborhood.”

“Me?” Sam scoffed, suppressing a yawn.

“Yeah you.” Dean chuckled, sliding out of the car and locking it behind him. “Screaming like a little girl over some party decorations.”

“Screw you, Dean.” Sam groaned and stretched.

“Screw you too, Sammy.”


	18. Two Steps Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t quite get this chapter to work the way I wanted to but I’ve got to put it up to keep moving forward. I've gotten stuck in fluff country for a while now and I'd like to get back to some plot for a bit so this is attempting to set some of that up. Comments are always welcome and incredibly helpful, especially on these chapters that just won’t cooperate.

The soup kitchen remained busy for weeks after New Year’s and Cas dutifully spent one night a week helping out. Sometimes Gabriel would drop off “extra” bread and cookies with Cas and Norah would thank them both with a knowing smirk. Since the revelation that Ruby was doing her community service hours there Sam had decided not to join Cas on his visits. Ruby avoided him, too, darting into the kitchen whenever he appeared on the serving line. Cas didn’t mind. He’d had little enough to say to her before he knew who she was, and he found now that he did know he was just as reticent as she was to strike up a conversation.

Sam didn’t ask about her, but Cas knew he was thinking of her. A look came over his face whenever Cas mentioned the soup kitchen, like a door slamming shut. Castiel didn’t ask, too unsure what to say. His conversation with Ruby in the snow had opened a window into her world, the regret she harbored over her past actions. How sincere it was was anyone’s guess. The one thing Castiel was sure of was that Sam still hadn’t told Dean about her. Each time Cas tried to bring it up Sam would swiftly change the subject, or find some excuse to bring Jo or Alfie into the conversation. Cas didn’t want to push Sam too hard on it, knowing how much turmoil Ruby threw his friend into, but he didn’t like keeping a secret from Dean.

Dean had slipped back into his normal routine after his birthday, working at every opportunity until he was too tired to move. Cas rarely saw him outside of work and when he did more often than not it was just so Dean could fall asleep after a few lazy kisses traded under his new comforter.

The first time Cas followed Sam into their apartment and saw Dean curled up under the downy white comforter something in his chest had clenched painfully. Dean always looked so young when he slept, beautifully peaceful as he clutched the blankets beneath his chin. The idea that Cas’s gift was wrapped around him, sheltering him…

It was a very nice feeling, Cas decided.

For a few weeks Castiel didn’t see Kennedy much. After their awkward conversation in the bushes the stocky bully had bee avoiding not only Cas, but it seemed Raphael and Rigby as well. When Castiel did catch sight of Kennedy he was usually on his own, slipping into the front office or stalking around outside the music rooms. Raphael kept his distance as well, but Castiel dared not hope the parasite had dropped his pointless vendetta. Now and then Raphael would taunt him, sneer at him from across the lunch room or whisper vile insults just as homeroom was beginning, but for the most part Castiel could ignore him.

It was Rigby who was beginning to concern Castiel. Carl Sanz - the olive-skinned boy who had attacked Cas in the alleyway a few months back with Raphael’s group - appeared more and more often at Rigby’s side. The reedy, pock-marked teen was apparently unable to function without a beefy sidekick backing him up. Each time Cas passed him Rigby’s face would close down, his watery eyes sparking vicious hatred and his mouth curling into a snarl. Cas wasn’t sure what he’d done recently to pique Rigby’s ire but he assumed the moron blamed him for Kennedy’s sudden distance. Kennedy had always been the more dangerous of the pair, but his drunken promise that Rigby would cut Cas lingered at the back of Castiel’s mind and he made sure to keep an eye out behind him whenever Rigby was around.

 

* * * *

 

“What’s up your butt?” Ash demanded, chucking a grease-stained rag at Dean’s face. Dean managed to catch it before it hit and tossed it right back.

“What do you mean?” Dean grunted, blinking the dust out of his eyes. He had been leaning against the coffee station staring at the wall for too long, his coffee forgotten in his hand.

Bobby was in his office arguing with some douche on the phone who wanted four hours of body work done for free and Benny had taken off for the day, leaving Dean and Ash to putter around the almost empty garage and wait for the end of the day.

“You’re all…” Ash waved a lazy hand at him, as if that was supposed to explain. “Boyfriend troubles?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No, Ash. Cas and I are fine.” He and Cas were fucking great. He’d been a little worried when he got his new schedules that Cas would be pissed. Girls he saw usually took the “sorry, gotta work” excuse personally, but Cas took it in stride. He understood why Dean was working every available shift and had greeted the news with a gentle smile. 

“Cool, cool.” Ash nodded, pouring himself a cup of stale coffee. “So what’s up?”

“Nothing’s up.” Dean grunted.

“Oh Dean-machine.” Ash chuckled. “You can’t fool a super genius, you know. Something’s bugging you big time. Why don’t you tell your good buddy Ash what’s going on?”

“Why are you so interested all of a sudden?” Dean snapped. He wasn’t really a sharing and caring kind of dude, especially not with Ash.

Ash grinned. “You’re a real downer to be around when you’ve got something knocking around the old brain-box. Puts a damper on my steez.”

“Steez?” Dean repeated, quirking an eyebrow.

“Style and ease, bro.” Ash supplied, drawing his fingers through his snaggled mullet. “Style and ease.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well your _steez_ is not really my problem, man.”

“Oh come on, buddy.” Ash sipped his coffee. “Maybe I can help. I’m full of good ideas. To the brim.”

Dean sighed. Ash had that look on his ferrety little face, the look that said he was not going to quit. He slid his thumbnail under the rim of his paper coffee cup, uncurling it all the way around with careful precision. “Been thinking about my dad.” He admitted quietly.

Ash whistled and drummed his fingers on his chest. “You heard from him?”

“Nah.” Dean sighed. “But just… I don’t know. With everything going on with Cas’s dad… I’m just worried about him.”

Ash scoffed. “C’mon Deano, the whole world knows John Winchester is Deadpool, man.” Dean cocked and eyebrow at him. “Indestructible.”

“I guess.” Dean nodded. “But he’s never gone this long without checking in.” Of course the last time Dean had spoken to John it had been to tell him to fuck off out of their life for good, so maybe there really was nothing to worry about. He just hadn’t expected his dad to listen to him. Not really. And despite everything John was their father. Even if Dean didn’t want him back full-time he would kind of like to know the guy was alive. Ever since that radio announcement he hadn’t been able to kick the idea that maybe John was in trouble, out there needing Dean but too stubborn to call.

“Got any way to contact him?” Ash suggested.

Dean shook his head. “Nope. His old numbers are all disconnected. He’s probably using fake credit cards again so that’s no help and Bobby hasn’t heard from him since all that shit went down last year.”

“Welp.” Ash coughed, chucking his empty cup at the trashcan. “Wish I could cheer you up guy but it seems like you’re just going to have to play the waiting game.”

“Awesome. That’s so much for the advice.” Dean drawled.

“Anytime, brosephski. Anytime.”

 

* * * *

 

Cas ducked, planting his palms and swinging his shin out to catch Rigby in the ankles. Rigby stumbled back, slamming against the lockers with a grunt. Cas spared a thought to be glad he hadn’t yet changed back into the fitted jeans Gabriel had insisted on all those months ago; his fencing breeches allowed for much more movement. He let his momentum go, pulling back to his feet and bringing his fist up into the kidney of the dark-haired boy pinning Alfie to the wall. Sanz turned and swung for Castiel’s gut just as Rigby regained his feet and levelled a punch at Castiel’s head. Cas managed to dodge Sanz but caught Rigby’s fist in the eye, feeling the skin along the bridge of his nose burst in a spray of blood. He ignored the pain, breathed through his mouth and brought his elbows in to protect his core, thrusting his knee up into Rigby’s crotch and stomping down on his foot. Sanz battered at Cas’s hands where they caged to protect his head but luckily he didn’t seem to know how to throw a decent punch.

“Hey! Help! We need help!” Alfie’s strident call echoed off the tiled walls. Rigby and Sanz instinctively backed off and let Cat see Alfie standing in the open the locker room door. There was blood trickling down his new plastron from a split lip where Rigby had caught them by surprise. Alfie beat his fist against a bank of lockers, sending a thundering distress call blaring down the halls.

Footsteps pounded towards them and Sanz swore.

“C’mon!” he hissed, slapping Rigby’s shoulder. The pair leapt over the bench that separated the two rows of lockers and disappeared around the corner. Alfie continued to yell until Becky appeared in the doorway, clutching her backpack like a weapon with her feet still bare. Castiel straightened up and dropped one arm, pulling the other up to stem the blood slowly tracking down his cheek.

“Jesus.” Becky squawked, catching Alfie by the chin to examine his lip. “Where are the bastards?”

“That way.” Alfie said pointing.

“No use.” Cas coughed, rubbing at his ribs. He didn’t think the assholes had managed to land anything hard enough to re-crack them, but he was certain to be black ad blue all over tomorrow. “There’s a door to the gym and a door out to the fields that way. They’re long gone.”

“Hannah went for help.” Becky informed them just as Hannah and a mousey young woman Castiel thought he recognized as an art teacher poked their heads in.

“Are you alright, Castiel?” Hannah asked quietly, her eyes wide.

Castiel forced a smile, ignoring the painful pinch as it stretched his broken skin. “I’m fine.” He assured her.

“What happened here?” the teacher asked, her voice stern but her hands shaking. She was staring at the blood dripping down Castiel’s cheek looking vaguely sick.

“Two guys jumped us.” Alfie explained, breathless.

“What were you doing in here?” she demanded. “It’s after school hours.”

“Fencing practice.” Hannah murmured, not taking her eyes off Cas. “We finished about ten minutes ago.” Cas straightened up, pleased to find that while there was a flare of pain in his shin it was not so bad.

“You two will have to come with me.” The teacher said. Castiel watched her fingers twist fretfully in the hem of her blouse and wondered how long she had been teaching. She didn’t look much older than Dean, perhaps a few years and newly graduated.

Cas nodded and gathered his things, not bothering to change any further, just throwing his sweater on over his bare chest. He was too tired. He nodded to Alfie, who smiled shakily back and followed him out into the hallway. The teacher walked them straight to the office, typing away on her phone as she did. Alfie was silent beside him and Hannah and Becky murmured quietly behind.

Chuck was called, appearing in a rumpled rush and frowning at Castiel’s bloodied face. The nurse bustled in and pressed some gauze to his nose then began inspecting Alfie’s scrapes as he dutifully reported how Sanz and Rigby had been waiting in the locker room, attacking them when they were tangled up taking off their gear. Hannah and Becky gave their accounts.Chuck listened with a tight frown. They contacted security, got an image of the boys fleeing the locker room and parents were called. Castiel and Alfie waited by Mrs. J’s desk while Rigby’s father and Sanz’s mother - who managed to look incredibly imposing at just over five feet tall - appeared and hollered at Chuck for a while.

Castiel ignored it, ignored Mrs. J’s mutterings about entitlement, ignored Alfie twitching in the chair beside him. His nose throbbed. He couldn’t breathe through it and he knew it was broken. He could practically feel the bruises bleeding down the sides, blackening his eyes around the icepack the nurse had given him. He ignored that too.

He was so tired. He was tired of this senseless aggression, of having to be on edge every moment he was in this building. He was tired of worrying that all the time Alfie or Sam or Jo was out of his sight they were in danger from these morons. He was tired of Raphael and Rigby, of the pull and crunch of fists on muscle. He was just tired.

“Cassie?”

Gabriel hovered in the doorway, worry all over his expressive face. Castiel sighed. He was tired of that too.

“I’m fine, Gabriel.” He said, taking the ice pack away to show his brother the worst of it.

“Yeah, looks ‘fine’.” Gabriel scowled. He bent down to inspect Cas’s nose, running his fingers brusquely but gently along its length. “Gonna have to set this, kid.” He apologized.

“Fine.” Cas sighed and turned his face up.

“Here.” Mrs. J opened her desk drawer and produced a metal spoon. “I expect it cleaned before you return it.” She warned. Gabriel grinned tightly at her and pressed the spoon against the side of Castiel’s nose.

“One, two, _three_.” He counted, shoving his thumb against the opposite side of Cas’s nose to snap it back into place. Cas grunted, fresh blood spilling down over his lips.

“Oh, for-“ Mrs. J shook her head and threw her box of tissues to Gabriel. He ripped out a handful and pressed them to Cas’s face.

“Raphael?” he guessed.

“His friends.” Alfie mumbled, glancing through Chuck’s glass wall.

“And he keeps his hands clean again.” Gabriel nodded, his voice shockingly even. “Right. I’m going to have a word with Chuck and then we’ll head out, ok kid?”

Cas shrugged, watching as Gabriel strode over and pushed the door open without knocking.

“Chuck.” He said, his voice even and calm. Castiel winced.

“Mr. Novak.” Chuck greeted, cutting his eyes to the three other adults in the room.

Rigby’s weedy father scowled. “You that pissant’s father?” he demanded.

“Mr. Rigby.” Chuck hissed a warning.

“Brother, actually.” Gabriel replied pleasantly. “And I’m just here to inform you that the next time any student at this school lays a finger on Castiel I will be pressing charges, whether he wants me to or not.”

“ _What?”_ Mr. Rigby exploded, throwing his arms up in the air and stomping towards Gabriel. “Are you fucking crazy? These boys are just fucking around!”

“ _Language,_ Mr. Rigby.” Chuck scolded.

Rigby’s father ignored him. “They trade a couple punches, kid stuff!” he scoffed. “It’s not _assault_.”

Gabriel tilted an eyebrow. “Actually, it is.” He corrected, speaking directly to Rigby and Sanz. The two boys stared at him, their faces pale with fear. “I have already spoken to a lawyer with Kempfer Bishop and he agrees that we have plenty of evidence for a restraining order and assault charges for both of you.”

“Bullshit!” Mr. Rigby hollered.

Chuck shot to his feet, planting his hands on his desk. “Mr. Rigby if you cannot remember you are in a school and control your language I will have you removed!”

Mr. Rigby turned a violent shade of purple but snapped his mouth shut.

“Now, Mr. Novak,” Chuck continued, “you are well within your rights to press charges if you so wish, and I know you are well aware what effect that would have on these young men’s academic career.” He glared at the boys, who shuffled miserably in place.

“I do.” Gabriel agreed easily. “The only reason I haven’t pursued it yet is that Cas is a kind, forgiving person. He doesn’t want to see the two of you ruin your lives over some idiot choices your supposed “friend” Raphael is making for you.”

The boys glanced guiltily at one another, Sanz’s mother scowled.

“See, Cas knows that assault charges would kill any chance you two have of scholarships - really college at all - a good job. And maybe you’re not eighteen yet. So maybe you do some community service and your record gets wiped clean. But Cas knows a restraining order will follow you. For as long as _I_ choose to enforce it.” Gabriel stepped closer and the boys shrank away. Castiel couldn’t see his brother’s expression, but judging by Rigby and Sanz’s it was terrifying. “And Cas might be kind and forgiving, but I am not. I am vindictive. I am wrathful. Cas knows that, too, and he’s the only thing that’s been keeping me from burning your miserable lives right down to the ground. Think about that next time you take a swing at him, because I promise you it will be the last.”

Gabriel spun on his heel, marching out of the office and slamming the door behind him. The room behind him erupted in shouting but Gabriel ignored it and pulled Cas to his feet.

“Let’s hope that scares the bully out of them.” Mrs. J approved, handing Gabriel some forms to sign. Gabriel scribbled his name and dropped them back on her desk.

“I meant every word.” He told her.

“I know you did, hon.” Mrs. J winked. “Think they know it, too.”

“Hope so. Alfie, you want a ride?” Gabriel offered but Alfie shook his head, staring at Gabriel as if he’d never seen him before.

“My mom’s already on her way.” He trembled.

“Ok. Look out for yourself.” Gabriel agreed.

“Sure.” Alfie gave a watery smile. “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel could only summon the energy to nod. He followed Gabriel out into the parking lot, wondering if he were supposed to return the ice pack before leaving. Deciding he didn’t care, he slid into the camaro and leaned his head gingerly against the seat.

“I mean it, Cas.” Gabriel grunted as the engine roared to life. He stared out the windshield, his jaw clenching and unclenching “This can’t keep happening. I know you don’t want to make a big deal out of it but it is a big deal. There’s only so many times you can fight them off before they really seriously fuck you up.”

Castiel sighed. “I know.” He murmured.

“I’m serious, Cas.” Gabriel growled.

Castiel looked at him, letting all his exhaustion show. “I know.”


	19. Three Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you still hanging on with me, THANK YOU SO MUCH!! Grad school has meant I don’t get to update nearly as much as I want to, and though I’d love to promise more frequent updates soon I still have at least another whole year before graduation. I PROMISE I haven’t forgotten about these boys, and I’ll continue to update as often as I can. In the meantime any encouragement is greatly appreciated.

Sam ground his teeth, pretending not to notice the dark-haired shadow lurking in the back corner of his life.

Ruby.

It had been weeks since she’d shown up at the school, since he’d poured his whole wretched history out to Castiel and asked him to keep secrets from Dean that neither of them should be keeping. Tessa would tear him to shreds if she knew. But Sam wasn’t planning on keeping it quiet forever. He’d been honest when he told Cas he just wanted to let Dean have a good birthday.

Well… mostly honest. Which was why it was weeks later and he still hadn’t come clean. He wasn’t deluded enough to ignore the pang of fear rattling around in his heart. He’d let himself fall under Ruby’s spell once before, shoved his better judgement way down the back of his mental sofa and let his own stupid selfish nature take over. When she’d been gone, safely locked away in some jail-junior hell hole it had been easy to promise never to be that stupid again. But now she was back. And even the sight of her, just standing there looking cold and pissed on the sidewalk out front of the school had plucked at something in his brain, pulled and gnawed at him like a hungry rat.

He had loved her. Sort of. He thought…

And it wasn’t as if she’d had some nefarious plot to lead him astray. She’d cared about him, too. If he had to tell Dean and Cas and anyone else a thousand more times, if he had to carve it into his bones, it was _his choice_. He had chosen what she represented. He had chosen anger and spite and to strike out on his own. In the stupidest direction possible, yeah, but he had chosen it.

And now she was back, beautiful and sad and just wanting to talk.But that’s where it had all started before. Talking. About their lives, about their problems, about the things neither of them let the rest of the world see.

Sam wasn’t stupid. When he was little he’d watched his father and later Dean, chatting and charming their way through difficult situations. Almost as soon as he’d learned to talk he’d learned how to manipulate, and learned from the best. Dean and their dad had been after free stuff, a lucky break, to weasel out of trouble, but Sam had always been a bit craftier about it. He could get secrets. He could get truth. A gentle twist of his eyebrow and a sad half-smile and people would spill their guts. His father had always said Sam could talk the birds out of the trees and he’d been right. That’s why he was captain of the debate team. It was one of the things that would make him an excellent lawyer some day. Trouble was - as Tessa had pointed out - that nobody seemed immune to Sam’s gifts, least of all Sam himself.

He could talk himself in circles, logic-ing his way into the most ridiculous, convoluted messes and doing it in a way that made perfect sense. Especially if it got him something he wanted. And though it nearly killed him to admit it, he still kind of wanted Ruby. Not so much sexually, though they had been good together. They’d only had full-on sex a few times, near the end, but he remembered that kissing her, touching her had felt like being burned alive in the best possible way. But those feelings, the excitement and the fire under his skin, those were tied too closely to the drugs. As confused as he was his brain held his dick back from jumping off that bridge a second time.

His heart, however…

To save her. That had been as much a goal as saving himself. They would work together and he would be the one to pull her out of the hellish life she wanted rid of so badly. It was stupid and probably sexist but something in his Winchester blood sang with the need to save that beautiful thunderstorm of a girl from the world and from herself.

But that wasn’t his job. That wasn’t his privilege. He had made his choices and she had made hers. He couldn’t be responsible for her salvation any more than he could hold her accountable for his downfall.

So he told himself to ignore it. He’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her and he’d meant it. It was better for everyone.

But.

She was there. Just at the periphery of his life, _around._ Sometimes he would look up and see a pair of big brown eyes and think _oh._ Or he’d catch the sweep of dark hair falling across a pale cheek and have to blink a few times to realize it wasn’t her. He missed her. The moments when she’d been soft, when she’d been sweet. The moments when she’d let all the steel and sarcasm crack and show him something more inside. The moments where she’d been gentle with him, collected him in her little hands and let him rest.

Maybe that was the girl that was left after juvie. After getting clean and doing her community service, maybe she was different. Sam was certainly different than the boy who had showed her how to kick out the panels on the Impala’s steering column and strip the ends of the starter wires. Wouldn’t he want another chance? At least to tell her he was sorry?

He sighed and pulled out his phone, flicking open his contacts to his list of blocked numbers. He didn’t know if she would have the same phone. Probably not. He stared at her number just the same until his hands started to shake.

He would tell Dean. As soon as he got home he would tell Dean.

He’d choose better this time.

 

* * * *

 

Cas never showed up for his shift. Dean didn’t notice.

From the minute he walked into the garage he was too busy working the dents out of a badly mangled 1970 Chevelle coup and trying not to think how similar the car’s story was to the Impala’s to notice what was going on around him. They were way behind already and Bobby was double-teaming another wreck with Benny while Ash was out towing some piece of crap with a dead starter in, leaving Dean to sort the disaster on his own. He focused on the ring his mallet, the scrape of his heavy-duty gloves as he tore off the ruined hood, trying to block it out. It didn’t work.

The owner’s teenage son had borrowed the car (apparently without permission to impress a girl), driven her into a guard rail and nearly over the edge of a small (but definitely big enough) gorge.

Dean had seen plenty of wrecks since Sam’s accident - he worked at a damn garage - but this one… Dean had nearly thrown up when he’d seen her crumpled black hood, smelled the mix of old smoke and leaked coolant as he examined the cracked radiator.He had to remind himself a hundred times as he positioned the dent-puller over some of the car’s less horrific wounds that both the kids had lived. Sammy had lived. Everything was ok. Just a broken collar bone, a few bruises here and there and a classic car to nurse back to health. He told himself over and over again and tried to stop his hands shaking.

It was only when he was putting away the last of his tools and working his jaw - sore from clenching - back and forth that he realized Cas was missing.

“Hey, Ash?” he called, waiting until the scruffy mechanic stuck his head out of Bobby’s office. Bobby and Benny had already headed out, leaving Dean and Ash to close.

“Yeah?” Ash asked carefully. Dean blinked, wondering exactly how much of a dick he’d been all day to make even Ash cautious. He honestly couldn’t remember.

“Did Cas call out?”

Ash shrugged, glancing back over his shoulder. “Dunno.” He admitted. “Bobby didn’t say anything. Was he supposed to be in?”

Dean frowned. He pulled out his phone and checked but there were no messages. He’d have thought… “Yeah. You heading out?”

“Yussir.” Ash nodded, stripping his jumpsuit and chucking in the bin Cas had labelled “dirties”.

Dean joined him at the sink, digging out a handful of the weird sugar scrub Benny’s girl had given them a jar of. She made all sorts of herbally, hippie-ish things like that and swore this would work better and be kinder to their skin than the old orange goop Bobby’d been stocking since the seventies. It smelled nice, at least. He started rubbing his hands down as Ash did the same.

“Not like the Toothpick to call out.” Ash mused. Dean grunted. “Maybe he’s sick. If I remember my school days-“

“Which you were too stoned to do.” Dean snorted.

“Mostly.” Ash agreed easily. “But what I do remember is there was always some mutated alien flu plague going around every couple weeks.” Dean hummed in agreement. Maybe Cas had come down with something. He never remembered to plug his phone in so it was probably dead and he’d had to call out from Gabriel’s retro landline. Dean nodded along with how much sense that made as he hastily checked all the bay doors were locked. Ash locked up Bobby’s office, uncharacteristically quiet as Dean waited by the back door. Dean thumped his fist against his thigh rhythmically as Ash wandered over toward the security box.

“Just go.” Ash sighed, flicking his hair out of his face.

“Hu?”

Ash gave his eyes a lazy roll. “Go check on the Toothpick. I can set the system and hit the lights.”

Dean pinched his lips together. Technically he was supposed to lock up when Bobby wasn’t around, but he didn’t really see how it mattered. “Thanks.” He said, already halfway out the back door.

He trotted through the snowy parking lot to the Impala, giving her hood an extra swipe of affection as he made it to the door. He drove too fast across town straight to Reynard's, gnawing on the corner of his mouth in nameless worry. It was fine. Cas had probably just gotten one of those headaches he got sometimes and called out. And Bobby had been too swamped to mention it. And Cas’s phone was dead so he couldn’t text. And he hadn’t borrowed Sam’s or Gabe’s because… because…

He double parked outside Gabe’s, blocking the runt’s Camaro in and not giving a damn. Reynard’s looked packed as usual but Dean ignored it and rang the bell for the apartment. Some lights were on in the windows so Cas was probably home. He waited, trying to resist the punch in his gut that said something bad was up. Half an eternity later the buzzer went off and Dean flicked away another stab of unease. Cas always came down the stairs to let people in. But it was fine. He was probably just not feeling great.

Dean took the stairs two at a time, hearing the lock flip on the upstairs door. He looked up and stopped dead.

“Shit.” He breathed.

He’d seen Cas torn up before. He’d seen the stitches, the scrapes. He’s seen the torn clothing, the split knuckles. But this…

His hand came up to cup Cas’s jaw. He stared. Bruises already turning green around the edges spread across both Cas’s eyes and leaked down over his cheekbones. There was a gash across his nose and Dean could tell by the swelling that it was broken. Cas hadn’t quite managed to get the last flakes of dried blood out of the corners of his nostrils and his eyes were bloodshot and tired. He held a bag of frozen cocktail onions to one eye but Dean could tell it wasn’t making a dent in the swelling. And below all the damage was something worse. Defeat. Cas looked beaten down, exhausted.

“Cas.” Dean murmured. He wasn’t really sure why but Cas quirked a tired smile at him, dropping the bag of onions to show Dean everything. Dean ran his other hand quickly over Cas’s ribs, watching his face for any signs of pain. Thankfully it seemed the assholes hadn’t cracked any this time around.

Cas covered Dean’s hand with his own, stroking gently with his thumb. “I’m fine, Dean.” He sighed, defeat in his voice. He turned away, shuffling over to the kitchen counter to flick the kettle on. He tossed the frozen onions into the sink with a pained grunt and set a fresh mug on the counter.

Dean nearly boiled out of his skin. “You’re not fucking _fine_.” He hissed. He was going to break Raphael’s fingers one by one. The sorry son of a bitch was going to wish he’d never fucking _seen_ Cas by the time Dean was through with him.

Cas glanced back, his expression impossible to read under all the bruising.

“Dean…”

“Why didn’t you _call me?”_ Dean demanded, taking the room in three quick strides. He crowded Cas against the cabinet, his fists slamming on the counter to trap him there.

Castiel didn’t react, just stared. “The school called Gabriel. He came to pick me up.”

“And you didn’t think I’d like to know that you’d been beat to hell? You didn’t think in any of the _hours_ since this happened that you could send me a frigging text?”

“It’s only been just over an hour since I got home.” Cas corrected, like that made a difference. “And I’m tired. I know how you get-“

“How I _get?”_ Dean repeated. His knuckles creaked.

“Yes, Dean.” Venom suddenly filled Cas’s tone. “How you _get._ Upset over things that don’t matter.”

“Don’t matter?”

“Yes.” Cas jerked a nod. “You forget that I’m entirely capable of taking care of myself!”

“Oh yeah.” Dean scoffed, shoving himself backward to gesture at Cas’s condition. “You really look like you took care of yourself great, there, buddy!”

Cas’s eyes were flat. “Sarcasm isn’t very attractive, Dean.” He said. Dean clenched his teeth so hard they screamed.

“Neither is a broken nose, Cas!” he shouted. “What the fuck were you thinking? How did this even happen?”

Cas stepped up close, anger rising to match Dean’s. “Two of those moronic sadists jumped me in the locker room. I fought them off. I took care of myself _and_ Alfie. I minimized the damage while Alfie called for help.”

“And running away never crossed your mind?” Dean demanded. “No, you thought, ‘oh I don’t need to run. I’ll just play the hero and get myself fucked up some more.’ _Jesus_ , Cas, are you fucking stupid? Those shits are out for your blood!”

Cas curled his lip disdainfully. “I should have run? And what, left Alfie to fend for himself?”

“They could have fucking killed you, Cas!” Dean hollered. “One wrong hit to the head, one lucky shot and you could be fucked up for _life_!”

“I’m aware of that, Dean. As I said -“

“You ‘minimized the damage’.” Dean repeated in a mocking voice. “Real bang up job!”

“Do not speak to me as if I were a _child!”_ Cas hissed.

“Well you fucking _are!”_ Dean yelled right back. Cas blinked at him. “Jesus Christ, Cas, you think you're invincible? Well you're not! You’re a seventeen year old kid and this ‘I can take care of myself’ bullshit is going to get you killed!”

Cas straightened, his face blanking completely. If Dean hadn’t been so goddamn angry he would have winced. “I would like you to leave now, Dean.” Cas said in a perfectly level voice.

“Yeah, no shit.” Dean growled. “You want to stand up to the whole goddamn world on your own? Be my guest. Good fucking luck!” Dean marched out of the apartment, slamming the door so hard little flecks of plaster showered onto his shoulders.


	20. Nothing's Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posting again in under a month? WHO IS THIS?? Turns out avoiding study time can be productive… sort of.

Castiel was freezing and he didn’t understand. Gabriel always kept the heat at a ridiculously high setting, too accustomed to the industrial ovens of his kitchen to survive in sub-tropical temperatures. Normally it was hot enough that Castiel could wander around barefoot in a t-shirt and jeans and still be uncomfortably warm, but here he stood, clutching his arms around his ribs and nearly shaking with the cold.

Perhaps it was the pain medication. He picked up the bottle from the counter, squinting to read the smudged typeset of the label for side effects. He wasn’t operating machinery. He wasn’t going to drink alcohol. Useless. He put it back down. He picked it back up.

_Kid_.

Castiel carefully placed the bottle on the window sill above the sink. The light would catch it in the morning and glow orange through the plastic. That would be pretty.

_Kid._

He wondered if a shower would warm him up. He needed to get the last of the dried blood off his skin and erase the stink of antiseptic anyway. Shuffling to his bedroom he pulled his shirt over his head, flinching as it grazed his face. Gabriel’s massive rain-fall shower head beat against the tiles in a mindless drone. As Cas stepped under the spray he kept his mind carefully blank. It was enough to just feel the drum, drumming against his shoulders. The shampoo stung an undiscovered scrape where his head had slammed the locker and rolled down across his battered nose with an acid touch. He ignored it. The simple smell of his body wash, usuallyso calming in hints of cedar and jasmine, made him feel vaguely nauseated as he gently swept it over sore muscles.

_Bang up job!_

He turned up the heat.

_Fucking stupid?_

He scrubbed mercilessly at his bruised shin, pain lancing up towards his knee.

_Yeah, no shit._

Cas dropped the loofa, leaned forward and pushed his forehead into the wall. Perhaps he could pin his consciousness between the sharp chill of the tile and the thrumming heat of the water. He breathed steam, floated in white noise.

_Well you fucking are!_

Castiel flinched, Dean’s shout echoing off the walls of the shower. Or maybe just the walls of his skull.

“Minimized the damage.” He slurred to his feet. They swayed gently across his vision.

He’d overdone the hot water now and was dizzy with it. He switched it off and stepped out, only remembering now that he’d left his towel hanging from the back of his bedroom door. He stood, beet-red and steaming on the bathmat and concentrated on the slither of water rolling from his hair. The mirror was completely fogged, reflecting only the vaguest red/pink phantom back at him.

Castiel waited until he was nearly dry - shivering again, of course - before shuffling through the still apartment to his room. He drew on his softest t-shirt - the no-longer snowy white one he had brought with him from Connecticut under his dress shirt - and a pair of pale pink flannel lounge bottoms Gabriel had given him at Christmas. It was only just after seven pm, but he was tired. He drew back the covers of his neatly-made bed and settled between the sheets, letting out a choked sigh as his aching head went horizontal.

_Good fucking luck._

Castiel closed his eyes and listened to the silence of his room until he fell asleep.

 

* * * *

 

Sam checked his phone; still eleven minutes left on the lasagna. He figured he could whip together a passable caesar salad in eleven minutes. He ducked under the counter for one of the chipped mixing bowls that had somehow qualified this ratty apartment as “semi-furnished” and pulled the romaine from the fridge. As he rinsed it and yanked a knife from the rack - one of the few really nice things the Winchester apartment boasted was a set of Japanese steel chef’s knives, bought when Dean had had way too much whiskey while watching late-night tv - Sam went over his approach again.

“Dean, I have something I need to tell you.” Good. Nice clear warning shot. “I need you to hear me out and try not to get mad, ok?” Like that was going to work. Sam rolled his eyes and dropped the lettuce into the bowl, wishing the old salad spinner they’d found at a discount store hadn’t broken. He hated soggy salad. “I didn’t mean to keep it a secret so long, I just couldn’t find a good time to bring it up.” That was true. Well, he frowned to himself as he added too much dressing (Dean’s preference) and a heap of croutons, mostly true. And if he knew his brother - which he absolutely did - Dean was going to be mad that Ruby was back at all, but furious that Sam hadn’t told him immediately. That was where the real battle was going to be fought.

“Keep calm.” He repeated to himself. “He’s going to get pissed, no way around it. Just stay calm and we’ll talk through it.” Yeah, that sounded likely. Oh, well. He had to come clean and he’d taken every precaution he could to get Dean in the best mood possible.

Sam wasn’t much of a cook but he made a pretty kick-ass vegetarian lasagna. It wasn’t too difficult to sear up some ground beef to add into the sauce and appeal to Dean’s not-so-inner carnivore. He’d cheated a little with those rolls out of a can and a grocery store cherry pie (he really hadn’t wanted Gabriel sticking his nose in and wondering why Dean needed buttering up) but generally a well-fed Dean was a much more pliable creature. He should have been home by now, but maybe if he had to work overtime at the garage he’d be a little bit exhausted. That could be good or bad for Sam’s cause, depending on exactly what had held Dean up.

Sam was just pulling the lasagna from the oven when he heard the Impala’s familiar rumble sliding into the drive. He winced as the door slammed, too hard for anything good to be going through his brother’s brain. Well, shit. He sighed and placed the tray on the counter to cool, listening for the tromp of Dean’s boots on the stairs. Dean didn’t so much open the door as explode through it, his face flat under that heavy blankness that meant he was really, _really_ pissed off.

Damnit.

Dean threw his keys viciously at the hall table, flung his coat over Sam’s chair and went straight to the cupboard, yanking down the bottle of whiskey and tearing the faded post-it from its side. Sam watched, wide-eyed, as Dean ripped the cap off and downed three long swallows. He dropped the bottle on the counter with a sharp crack, keeping his fist tight around the neck.

“Bad day?” Sam guessed, hoping a little humor would snap Dean out of whatever was going on.

Dean just growled and took another swig.

“Hey, slow down, man.” Sam said, not quite daring to take a hold of the bottle. Dean shot him a glare. “What, uh, what happened?”

“Nothing happened, Sam.” Dean grated.

“Yeah, cause this is your usual nightly routine.” Sam snarked.

Dean rounded on him, eyes snapping. “I can have a damn drink if I want to.” He hissed. “The fuck does it matter?”

Sam backed up a step. Best to tread carefully here. “I’m not saying you can’t.” He said in his most reasonable tone. “You just haven’t in a while. Wondering what’s changed.”

“Nothing’s _changed._ ” Dean sneered. “Not a goddamn thing.” He took another drink. This time Sam did reach out, snatching the bottle away and replacing the cap. “ _Fuck you_ , Sam.” Dean raged, but Sam refused to be affected. _Keep calm and we’ll talk through it,_ he repeated in his head.

“Ok. Yesterday you were fine.” Sam began, shoving the bottle on top of the cabinet where he knew Dean couldn’t reach. There were definite perks to being taller than his brother. “And today you went to work and came home ready to cut someone’s head off. So I’m guessing _something_ happened to change your mood.”

Dean stayed silent.

“Was it something at work?” Sam pressed.

Dean glared, eyeing the bottle. For a second Sam thought he would say damn his dignity and climb up on the counter to retrieve it but Dean seemed to think the better of it.

“So something happened at work.” Sam reasoned, the twitch of Dean’s mouth convincing him he was right. He waited. Dean’s eyes flicked toward the tv but Sam was quicker, snatching the remote off the futon and hiding it with the whiskey.

“Real mature.” Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam waited.

“I can still kick your ass, you know.” Dean threatened.

Sam waited.

“ _Sammy_.” His tone was sharp.

Sam just waited. Dean was the king of repression, but Sam was the frigging _sultan_ of patience. He stared, watching Dean fidget and counting the seconds in his head.

“Got a wreck in.” Dean growled finally, glaring at the faucet as if it were the source of all evil in the world. “Beautiful car just torn to shreds. Spent all day breaking my back on it.”

Sam frowned, watching the corners of his brothers eyes tense and relax in rapid succession. “A… a classic?” he guessed, hiding a twinge of guilt. Sam had a vision of a torn black door, cut open by an emergency crew, what was left of the window smeared in dried blood.

Dean grunted an affirmative. “Chavelle coup. ’70. Idiot kid stole it out of the garage and nearly killed himself trying to impress some girl.”

Shit.

“Ok.” Sam choked past a throat gone tight. So Dean had spent all day with a 1.75 ton reminder of Sam’s accident. That was a pretty decent excuse to be pissed as hell, Sam figured. “Alright.”

Dean snorted. Sam peered at him, the way he was holding himself…

“There was something else?” he pushed. Pulling teeth would be a leisure activity compared to this.

“No.” Dean lied. Sam pursed his lips, edging carefully closer.

“You can tell me stuff, you know.” He said gently. “I know talking isn’t your thing but… we’re supposed to take care of _each other,_ now, remember?” Tessa’s advice.

Dean gave up on the faucet, turning his thousand-watt death-glare on Sam. “You think three months of therapy qualifies you to solve everyone else’s shit, hu?” he sniped. “Fine. How’s this? Cas got his ass beat again today. Didn’t even call me to tell me. Just ghosted work and didn’t say a word. And when I did find out he told me to mind my own damn business. So see? Nothing’s changed. Can’t do anything to help anybody, just gotta watch him go get fucked up over and over again and hold my tongue until he does something _really_ stupid. Bullheaded son of a bitch.”

Sam blinked. Cas had been hurt? “When?” he demanded, his own hackles rising.

Dean scoffed. “Sometime today. I don’t know. “

“Fucking-“ Sam took a deep breath through his nose. “Is he ok?”

Dean barked out a bitter laugh. “Oh he’s fucking _fine_! Told me so himself. He can barely breathe through the broken nose and he’s lucky they didn’t burst an eyeball, but I tell ya, Sammy, he’s _just fine!”_

Sam bit his cheek. Damn Raphael. “Ok. So you’re mad he didn’t tell you?”

“I’m _pissed_ he didn’t think it was _worth_ telling me!” Dean hollered. “Like he doesn’t give a damn if those assholes actually fuck him up beyond repair!”

Sam frowned. “You know that’s not true.”

“He _said_ it, Sam!” Dean shouted. “Right to my face. He said it _doesn’t matter_! What am I supposed to do with that?”

“And what did you say?”

Dean snarled. He looked about a second from punching something but Sam knew better than to back down. He crossed his arms and stared his brother down. Dean didn’t even try to dodge it this time. “I told him to stop being a damn idiot.”

“‘Cause I’m sure that’s what he needed to hear.” Sam groaned. He could see it, Cas bruised and frustrated, Dean desperately trying to force down the memory of the worst day of their lives. Both of them scared and not knowing what to do about it. Gunpowder and a spark. Jesus.

“Bite me.” Dean wrenched the fridge door open and grabbed a beer. Sam didn’t move to stop him, since it was a few steps better than draining the better part of a fifth of whiskey. He waited while Dean took a few vengeful gulps, keeping his gaze steady. Dean kicked the fridge door shut with way too much force and huffed through his nose.

“Dean.”

“WHAT, Sam?” Dean rounded on him and Sam saw a real threat in his eyes. He didn’t back down, but reached up to grab the tv remote and handed it over.

“Ellen took me grocery shopping with her today.” Sam informed him calmly, nodding at the bottle in Dean’s hand. “She bought you a case of beer since you were almost out. They’re by the door. If you want them cold you should put them in the fridge. There’s lasagna for dinner and a pretty shitty pie that was on sale.” He took down some mismatched plates from the cabinet and cut a generous-sized piece of lasagna. He turned, holding up the steaming plate.

Dean squinted at him as if it might be booby-trapped. “What?”

Sam snorted and spooned a not-too-generous pile of salad beside it. “You had a really shitty day, Cas had a really shitty day, and you’re both pissed about it. I’m pissed, too. So sit down, watch a terrible movie, eat some food and drink your beer.”

“… You don’t want to _talk?_ ” Dean sneered.

“I’m not interested in getting my head torn off.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Cool off, and when we’re a little less likely to stuff that just makes it worse we’ll talk. Ok?”

Dean scowled and for a second Sam was sure he was going say something about talking being for chicks, but he just grunted and took the plate. “Why are you cooking?” he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Sam turned away to hide the flash of guilt he was sure passed over his face.

“Had a craving.” He lied. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Just eat.” Dean grunted and slouched over to the couch. Sam carefully filled his own plate, digging out a bit of salad with less dressing and leaving all the croutons for Dean. He wasn’t about to bring up Ruby tonight. He needed to tell Dean, but if his brother had been staring at a wrecked classic and biting down the panic he’d felt that night for a solid 8 hours there was literally no worse time to try. Sam would wait a bit longer until the chances of Dean actually exploding were a little less certain. He sighed. Hopefully Dean and Cas would figure this out quickly.


End file.
